UNDER 


ALLEN  RAINE 


29  4  D 


UNDER  THE  THATCH 


UNDER  THE  THATCH 


BY 

ALLEN  RAINE 


NEW  YORK 
DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

1910 


COPYRIGHT,  1910,  BY 
DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

Published,  April,  1910 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 


2137S51   * 


CHAPTER   I 

THE  long  summer  day  was  drawing  to  a  close,  and 
the  sun  was  sinking  behind  the  bank  of  furze  and 
heather  which  sheltered  the  vale  of  Meivon  from  the 
West.  Behind  that  bank,  half  a  mile  away,  the  sea 
stretched  its  illimitable  blue,  but  on  this  side  of  the 
bank  the  land  sloped  gently  down  to  as  fair  a  picture 
of  woodland  scenery  as  ever  gladdened  the  eye  of  man. 
Here  there  was  no  suggestion  of  the  sea,  except  per- 
haps in  the  crows  and  seagulls  that  sometimes  rose 
over  that  furzy  bank  and  wheeled  down  to  the  little 
river  which  cut  like  a  steel  knife  between  the  two  deep 
woods  that  clothed  the  sides  of  the  valley. 

At  a  bend  of  the  stream  stood  a  quaint  old  structure. 
Was  it  mill?  was  it  homestead  or  hall?  This  was  the 
question  that  presented  itself  to  everyone  who  saw  it 
for  the  first  time.  Thatched  and  gabled  and  white- 
washed, the  centre  of  the  building  low  and  many  win- 
dowed, the  east  and  west  wings  rising  to  the  dignity  of 
three  storeys,  each  under  its  high  gable  of  straw  over 
which  the  moss  of  years  had  in  some  places  thrown  a 
veil  of  green,  while  here  and  there  a  streak  of  more 
modern  thatching  made  a  little  variety  in  its  ancient 
brown  tints. 

Under  the  gable  facing  eastwards  was  a  heavy 
water-wheel,  whose  continual  clap-clap,  together  with 
the  rushing  and  trickling  of  a  streamlet,  supplied  the 
answer  to  the  question,  What  is  the  quaint  old  build- 
ing? At  present  a  mill,  no  doubt,  as  witness  the  cart 


2  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

laden  with  bulging  sacks  which  stands  at  the  broad 
double  door ;  but  you  feel  as  you  look  at  it  that  this 
was  not  the  object  for  which  the  old  house  was  built. 
Surely  out  of  these  long  windows  fair  faces  adorned 
by  the  high  coiffure  of  olden  days  have  looked  out  on 
the  courtyard  below,  where  the  hunters  in  scarlet  and 
green  had  often  assembled,  while  the  sound  of  the 
winding  horn  and  the  baying  of  the  hounds  had  filled 
the  morning  air  with  their  music. 

Still,  there  are  the  crumbling  remains  of  its  encir- 
cling wall  now  ferny  and  moss-grown.  That  court- 
yard is  now  a  broad  open  green,  on  which  stands  a 
cart  or  two,  as  well  as  Phil  the  miller's  grey  mare, 
whilst  across  it  runs  the  highroad  leading  on  one  side 
to  the  little  town  of  Maentrevor,  on  the  other  up  a 
steep  shady  lane  to  the  scattered  homesteads  on  the 
hillside. 

Softly  and  silently  the  evening  shadows  were  falling 
over  the  landscape;  a  couple  of  farm  horses,  loosed 
from  their  work,  but  still  bearing  their  jingling  har- 
ness and  their  slouching  riders,  passed  by  the  open 
space  in  front  of  the  mill,  and  disappeared  into  a  by- 
lane.  The  farm-boys  nodded  sideways  to  old  Philip 
the  miller,  who  stood  at  the  mill  door,  his  rugged  face 
beaming  with  content.  His  name  was  Philip  Lloyd, 
but  he  was  familiarly  known  as  "  Phil-y-Velin,"  or 
"  Phil  of  the  Mill " ;  the  name  tripped  easily  off  the 
tongue,  and  it  distinguished  him  from  the  many  other 
Lloyds  of  the  neighbourhood. 

When  the  sun  had  quite  disappeared  behind  the 
bank  in  the  west,  he  still  looked  out  over  the  winding 
road  which  led  that  way,  sometimes  turning  to  glance 
at  the  long-windowed  centre  of  the  building,  which 
connected  the  east  end  of  the  house  in  which  he  lived 


3 

and  ground  his  corn  with  the  western  gable,  which  had 
long  been  shut  up,  its  windows  boarded,  and  its  chim- 
neys buried  in  ivy  in  the  wood  which  formed  the  back- 
ground to  this  quaint  dwelling  where  the  shadows 
were  already  growing  dark,  for  a  pale  round  moon 
rode  high  in  the  sky,  and  while  her  beams  tinged  the 
tops  of  the  trees,  and  the  faces  of  the  whitewashed 
mill  with  a  faint  golden  light,  they  deepened  the  shad- 
ows in  the  long  mysterious  glades  of  the  woods. 

In  the  strip  of  front  garden  a  girl  was  stooping 
over  a  "  whintell "  basket  which  was  slowly  filling  with 
weeds.  As  she  plucked  at  the  obstinate  groundsel  and 
plantain  she  seemed  lost  in  thought,  and  paid  no  heed 
to  the  fading  sunset,  or  to  the  golden  moon  above  her, 
until  at  last  the  basket  was  full.  Rising,  she  lifted  it 
to  her  hip,  and  turned  to  the  miller.  "  No  sign  of  rain 
yet,"  she  called;  "the  weeds  are  as  hard  to  pluck  as 
if  they  grew  in  a  board." 

"Yes,  I  dare  say,"  said  Phil-y-Velin.  "What 
o'clock  is  it,  I  wonder?  I  am  waiting  for  Maychael, 
you  see,"  a  superfluous  remark,  perhaps,  the  girl 
thought,  for  directing  a  sweeping  glance  of  indiffer- 
ence towards  the  road  which  led  to  the  town,  she  turned 
away,  and  carried  her  basket  of  weeds  into  a  cottage, 
that  stood  close  by,  and  out  through  the  open  door 
at  the  back,  in  a  few  moments  returning  with  her 
empty  "whintell." 

She  had  cast  off  her  hood  in  the  cottage,  thus  giv- 
ing us  an  opportunity  to  describe  her.  Her  well- 
shaped  head  was  crowned  with  massed  coils  of  light 
hair,  light  and  colourless  as  tow,  and  beautiful  only  in 
its  luxuriant  wealth;  her  face  was  strangely  colour- 
less too,  her  white  eyelids  drooping  heavily  over  her 
eyes  of  greyish  green,  which  colour  can  sometimes  be 


4  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

very  expressive,  though  in  Essylt's  case  it  was  impos- 
sible to  tell  what  their  expression  might  be,  for  what 
the  heavy  lids  allowed  to  be  seen  was  generally  veiled 
by  the  long  light  lashes  which  matched  the  neutral 
tone  of  her  hair.  The  mouth  would  have  been  beautiful, 
with  its  red  lips  and  small  white  teeth,  were  it  not  for 
a  sarcastic  smile  which  always  seemed  to  hover  round 
the  corners,  drawing  them  up  almost  into  a  sneer. 
Not  a  pretty  face  perhaps,  with  its  peculiar  expres- 
sion, and  want  of  colouring,  but  certainly  striking, 
with  its  light-fringed  drooping  eyelids.  She  knelt 
down  to  her  basket  again  with  that  strange  supercil- 
ious smile  which  was  natural  to  her  when  in  repose. 

"  Where  is  Peggy  to-night  ?  "  called  the  old  man 
from  his  door. 

"Gone  to  the  town,  a  message  for  Miss  Barbara; 
she'll  come  back  through  the  wood,  I'm  thinking,"  was 
the  reply ;  and  by  and  by,  when  the  twilight  was  dark- 
ening, it  seemed  quite  appropriate  that  from  the  deep 
recesses  of  the  wood  Peggy  Jerry  should  emerge  like 
a  witch  weighed  down  by  her  bundle  of  fagots.  Lined 
and  wrinkled  was  her  face,  brown  and  leathery  her  bare 
arms,  keen  and  bright  her  black  eyes  under  the  pent- 
house of  grizzled  hair  which  adorned  her  forehead. 

She  scarcely  waited  to  fling  down  her  bundle  before 
she  began  in  a  loud  voice  rating  at  the  girl,  who  was 
now  deliberately  filling  her  basket  for  the  second  time. 
"  So  here  thou  art,  thou  idle  hussy ;  art  not  ashamed 
of  thyself  to  come  home  before  finishing  thy  work,  and 
Miss  Barbara,  poor  thing,  calling  thee  all  over  the 
house?  " 

The  girl  went  on  with  her  weeding  with  that  inscrut- 
able smile  on  her  lips,  and  apparently  indifferent  to 
Peggy's  rebuke.  She  was  about  to  answer,  however, 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  5 

when  she  was  interrupted  by  another  call  from  Phil. 
"  The  crock's  boiling,  and  I  want  my  supper ;  don't 
seem  as  if  Maychael  was  coming." 

Peggy  hurried  in  to  lay  the  simple  meal,  for  she  oc- 
cupied her  cottage  at  a  nominal  rental,  on  condition 
that  she  should  clean  the  old  miller's  house,  and  see  to 
his  comforts.  This  she  managed  to  do  at  odd  intervals 
in  her  attendance  at  Caefran,  the  gaunt  grey  house 
that  stood  on  the  hill  above  the  valley,  with  its  back- 
ground of  ragged  pines,  and  its  foreground  of  neg- 
lected lawn,  now  borrowing  momentary  beauty  from 
the  increasing  light  of  the  summer  moon. 

"  There ! "  she  said,  arranging  the  basins  and  plates, 
and  giving  the  hearth  a  final  sweep  up.  "  There !  I've 
laid  for  Michael  too,  for  he's  sure  to  come.  Call  if  you 
want  me,"  and  she  returned  to  the  garden,  where  Essylt 
was  preparing  to  pick  up  her  basket. 

"Hast  finished  then?"  said  Peggy,  looking  over 
the  well-cleared  bed;  "that's  a  good  job  done,  what- 
ever." She  seemed  to  have  forgotten  her  grudge 
against  the  girl  in  the  little  touch  of  work  in  the  mill, 
and  the  pleasure  of  arranging  the  old  man's  cosy 
hearth. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  sound  of  wheels  on  the  road, 
as  a  horse  and  gig  came  in  sight  round  the  bend  of 
the  furzy  knoll.  It  drew  nearer,  and  stopped  to  let 
one  of  its  occupants  alight,  while  the  other  drove  on 
towards  the  hilly  road  on  the  right.  Peggy  went  a  few 
steps  to  meet  the  approaching  figure,  while  Essylt  car- 
ried her  basket  away  without  a  sign  of  having  seen  the 
newly  arrived,  soon  returning,  however — for  under 
those  sleepy  eyelids,  and  through  those  strange  light 
lashes  she  had  seen  as  much,  nay,  a  good  deal  more 
than  Peggy.  After  all,  that  pale  face  had  life  behind 


6  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

it  somewhere,  for  it  took  a  faint  tinge  of  colour,  like 
pink  marble,  as  she  returned  to  the  garden,  and  stood 
waiting  a  moment,  while  the  newcomer  diverged  a 
little  from  the  path  that  led  to  the  mill  door  towards 
the  two  women  who  waited  to  greet  him. 

"  Hallo !  hallo  !  hallo !  "  he  cried ;  "  working  so  late. 
In  my  deed,  you  are  industrious."  There  was  cheer 
and  kindly  jollity  in  the  voice,  that  did  the  heart  good 
to  hear. 

"  I  have  been  weeding,"  said  Essylt,  pointing  to  the 
square  bed.  "  Yes,  indeed,  till  my  back  aches." 

"  'Tis  too  much  for  thee,  lass.  Why  didst  not  leave 
it  for  me?  I  have  a  good  hour's  work  in  me  yet, 
though  I  have  been  to  Caermadoc  to-day,  and  I  have 
yet  to  drive  a  mile  the  other  side  of  the  town  to  see 
old  Jones  Gelligaer  before  I  go  to  bed." 

"  And  I  have  to  go  to  Will  Cobbler's,  too,  to-night." 

"  Well,  I'll  go  back  through  the  wood,"  said  the 
young  man,  "  and  drop  thee  there." 

"Oh,  very  well,  but  no  need,"  said  the  girl,  with  a 
sweep  of  her  eyelashes ;  "  I  am  used  to  the  wood." 

"Yes,  but  I'll  come,  so  wait  for  me,"  said  Michael; 
"  but  leave  the  weeding  for  me  another  night." 

"  Oh,  let  her  be,"  said  Peggy,  "  she  won't  do  too 
much,  leaving  Miss  Barbara,  poor  thing,  with  her 
laces  and  clothes  half-ironed,  and  just  because  it  was 
six  o'clock,  if  you  please — as  if  that  was  any  reason 
for  leaving  off  your  work,  if  you  haven't  finished  it, 
and  them  '  mugles '  on  her  neck,  that  Miss  Barbara 
can't  bear  to  see,  ach-y-fi!  " 

"What?  those  beads,"  said  the  young  man,  looking 
at  them  admiringly ;  "  they  are  very  pretty,  I  think ; 
but  I  must  go  in.  Be  bound  father  has  given  me  up  by 
this  time,"  and  he  turned  away  to  the  mill  door,  not  at 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  7 

all  troubled  by  the  knowledge  that  Peggy  was  still 
haranguing  her  niece  in  terms  of  reproof,  for  well  he 
knew  from  old  experience  that  Peggy  Jerry's  tongue, 
and  her  outward  appearance,  were  the  only  rough 
things  about  her.  He  knew  that  when  they  entered  the 
cottage  together,  Essylt's  stool  would  be  pushed  to 
the  cosiest  side  of  the  hearth,  the  cleanest  corner  of 
the  tablecloth  would  be  turned  to  her,  the  whitest  loaf, 
the  freshest  pat  of  butter — all  would  be  for  Essylt, 
who  would  accept  them  calmly,  while  old  Peggy  Jerry, 
happy  in  her  own  way,  and  in  her  self-effacement  would 
make  the  logs  blaze  up,  and  chat  away  on  the  news  of 
the  neighbourhood,  quite  forgetful  of  the  little  breeze 
of  indignation  that  had  ruffled  her  a  few  moments 
earlier. 

In  the  mill  kitchen  the  fire  was  glinting  and  spar- 
kling where  the  old  miller,  drawing  up  to  the  table,  was 
reluctantly  beginning  his  supper  alone.  "  Hallo !  " 
said  the  same  pleasant  voice  that  had  greeted  Peggy 
and  Essylt,  and  Phil  looked  up  to  see  a  tall,  broad- 
shouldered  man,  who  stooped  his  head  as  he  entered 
the  low  doorway.  Phil-y-Velin's  son,  of  course;  the 
same  well-knit  frame,  the  finely  shaped  head,  the  very 
counterpart  of  the  miller's  own,  with  its  close-cropped 
dark  hair,  and  its  rebellious  clump  above  the  forehead, 
though  Michael  Lloyd's  was  untouched  by  the  powder 
of  iron-grey  which  tinged  his  father's  locks,  even  as 
the  mill  dust  powdered  his  coat ;  no  wonder  that  his 
honest  face  broadened  into  a  smile  of  welcome  as  his 
son  entered. 

"  Thought  you  weren't  coming  at  all,  machgen-l; 
there's  missing  you  I'll  be  when  you  go  back  to  that 
old  hospital." 

"Well,  it  will  only  be  for  a  time,  you  see,"  said  the 


8 

younger  man,  drawing  his  chair  to  the  table  and  help- 
ing himself  to  the  brown  bread  and  cheese. 

"  No  cawl?  "  said  Phil,  ladling  another  basinful  for 
himself. 

"  No  cawl  to-night.  We  had  a  bowl  apiece  at  Cwm, 
the  doctor  and  I;  the  little  boy  had  the  croup  there, 
but  he's  much  better  to-day,  so  they  were  having  a 
jolly  supper.  I  tell  you  what,  father,  I  am  looking 
forward  to  the  time  when  I  can  settle  down  here,  and 
apply  the  knowledge  that  I  have  gained  to  the  good 
of  my  old  friends  in  my  native  valley.  What  do  you 
think?  Isn't  it  a  natural  feeling?  And  yet  Dr.  Severn 
argued  that  my  fellow-creatures  ought  to  have  the  same 
interest  for  me  anywhere,  in  the  East  End,  or  the  slums 
— anywhere — but  you  don't  know  what  they  are.  But," 
added  the  young  man,  with  a  laugh,  and,  oh !  how  that 
laugh  sparkled  in  his  eyes,  and  lightened  his  face,  and 
showed  up  the  white  teeth,  "  I  am  afraid  there's  a  ter- 
rible alloy  of  '  self  '  in  my  nature,  for  I  tell  you,  father, 
I  could  not  work  anywhere  as  I  could  here.  Money? 
Oh,  money's  not  everything,  and  between  you  and  me, 
father,  I  am  shocked  to  see  the  slap-dash,  out-of-date 
methods  that  Dr.  Rees  employs  in  his  practice.  JTis 
kill  or  cure  with  him,  and  no  mistake." 

Phil-y-Velin  looked  up  over  his  cawl  with  a  knowing 
wink.  "  I  can  fancy  that,  my  boy,"  he  said ;  "  but, 
mind  you,  Michael,  when  I  come  to  die,  'tis  Dr.  Rees  I 
would  like  to  have  at  my  bedside,  like  my  father  before 
me.  A  good  safe  old  doctor  is  Dr.  Rees.  You  can 
watch  him,  mind  you,"  he  said  with  a  nudge,  "  and  give 
him  a  hint,  but  I  would  be  afraid  to  trust  myself  in  the 
hands  of  you  young  doctors.  I  don't  want  to  be  cut 
up  alive  that  you  may  find  out  how  the  blood  runs,  or 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  9 

something  of  that  kind — that's  what  I  hear  you  do  to 
the  poor  animals  in  the  hospitals,  ach-y-^,1  " 

A  shadow  fell  on  the  young  man's  face  as  he  drew  his 
hand  over  the  head  of  the  faithful  old  sheep-dog  who 
had  just  laid  his  muzzle  on  his  knee.  "  'Tis  a  devilish 
thing,  father,"  he  said.  "  I  have  done  my  best  to 
fight  against  it,  and,  please  God,  I  will  yet  have  many 
a  tilt  at  it." 

Phil  shook  his  head,  and  taking  a  key  from  the  hook 
on  the  dresser,  stooped  to  a  barrel  that  stood  in  a  cor- 
ner of  the  roomy  kitchen,  and  drew  a  jug  of  ale,  from 
which  Michael  poured  a  foaming  glass.  "  Nothing 
like  Peggy's  brew,"  he  said. 

"  No,"  said  Phil,  smacking  his  lips,  and  looking 
critically  through  the  sparkling  glass  at  the  flame  of 
the  lamp,  which  hung  down  from  the  rafter.  "  No 
one  like  Peggy  for  *  cwrw,""  but  indeed  Essylt  is  the 
best  for  cawl;  she  ran  down  from  Caefran  to-day  to 
make  this  for  me." 

"And  how  are  they  at  Caefran?"  said  Michael, 
pushing  his  chair  away  from  the  table,  and  turning  to 
the  blazing  logs  to  light  his  pipe. 

"  Oh,  all  right,  as  far  as  I  know.  We  don't  see 
much  of  the  two  ladies ;  but  Muster  Tom,  he's  about 
here  most  days." 

"  Well,  a  *  mgwin '  before  I  go,"  said  Michael,  be- 
ginning to  draw  long  whiffs  from  his  briar,  Avhile  Phil 
reached  his  short  clay  from  the  mantelshelf,  and  did 
the  same. 

"  Go !  art  going  so  soon  ?  " 

"Yes.  I  mustn't  stop  long,  as  the  doctor  wants  me 
to  see  old  Jones  Gelligaer  once  more  to-night.  Essylt 
is  going  through  the  wood  to  Will  Cobbler's,  and  I 


10  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

may  as  well  go  that  way  too — 'tis  nearer  than  the 
road." 

Here  Peggy  entered  with  clattering  wooden  shoes. 

"  Ach-y-$!  there's  low  your  fire  is,"  and  she  flung  a 
fresh  log  on  the  hearth.  "  I'll  clear  away  your  supper 
now ;  and  if  you  don't  want  anything  more,  Phil,  here's 
your  candle.  I'll  go  home  to  bed,  for  in  my  deed  I  am 
tired  to-night.  Essylt  has  gone  to  Will  Cobbler's  with 
her  *  clocs  '  to  be  mended,  but  I'll  leave  the  door  on  the 
latch  for  her." 

*'  And  I,"  said  Michael,  "  will  see  her  safe  through 
the  wood." 

"  Very  well,  indeed,  macligen  I;  there's  some  nasty 
tramps  about  to-day." 

"Well,  good  night,  father — see  you  again  to-mor- 
row. We  have  lots  of  calls  about  here  just  now." 

"  Yes,  'fluenza,"  said  Peggy,  shaking  her  head. 

"  Good  night,"  called  the  old  man,  and  Michael  was 
gone. 

Peggy  finished  her  work,  the  mill  door  was  closed, 
and  Phil-y-Velin,  taking  his  candle,  went  up  the  creak- 
ing stairs  to  the  low-raftered  room  where  he  slept.  For 
a  few  moments  longer  his  light  glimmered  through  the 
little  thatched  window,  until  it  suddenly  went  out, 
leaving  only  the  full  moon  to  light  up  the  valley. 

Under  her  beams  in  the  soft  night  air  Michael  Lloyd 
with  rapid  strides  was  lessening  the  distance  between 
him  and  the  sombre  wood,  through  which  lay  the  short 
cut  to  the  town.  When  he  heard  the  click  of  the  mill 
door  bolts,  a  shadow  had  fallen  over  his  face,  the  broad 
brow  had  puckered  a  little,  the  clear  blue  eyes  had 
clouded,  the  lines  of  the  mouth  had  hardened,  making 
his  face  look  older  and  less  buoyant  than  when  he  en- 
tered the  mill  door.  There,  every  care  seemed  to  be 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  11 

lightened;  the  high  spirits  of  his  boyhood  always  re- 
turned to  him  with  the  smell  of  the  meal  and  the  grain, 
with  the  sound  of  the  mill  stream  that  trickled  slowly 
under  the  idle  wheel,  or  rushed  with  the  clap-clap  of 
the  grinding.  But  now,  alone  under  the  stars,  a 
brooding  weight  seemed  to  have  fallen  upon  his  heart 
and  mind.  It  was  eight  long  years,  very  long  they 
seemed  to  him  to-night,  since  he  had  taken  that  fatal 
step  which  had  altered  the  whole  tenor  of  his  life. 
Until  then  he  had  known  nothing  of  care  or  anxiety. 
Old  Phil,  with  comfortable  means  at  his  disposal,  had 
delighted  in  smoothing  the  path  of  his  clever  boy, 
amply  rewarded  by  the  youth's  ever-increasing  suc- 
cess ;  scholarship  after  scholarship  was  gained,  exam- 
inations passed  with  ease,  and  before  long  the  young 
man's  name  was  becoming  known  in  the  medical  pro- 
fession as  that  of  one  who  was  likely  to  make  his  mark 
in  the  world.  His  treatise  on  neuritis  had  made  a  very 
favourable  impression  upon  the  faculty,  and,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  Michael  Lloyd  had  every  prospect  of  suc- 
cess in  the  career  which  he  had  already  begun  with  so 
much  honour.  But,  to  everyone's  astonishment,  he 
elected  to  return  to  an  out-of-the-way  corner  of 
Wales.  The  doctor,  whose  practice  he  had  carried  on 
during  a  year  of  compulsory  absence,  owing  to  a  seri- 
ous illness,  was  bitterly  disappointed  at  the  strange 
obstinacy  with  which  the  young  man  declined  his  offer 
of  a  partnership. 

"  No,"  said  Michael  Lloyd.  "  I  am  grateful  to  you 
for  your  proposal,  but  the  old  home  calls  me,  the  old 
life  of  freedom  from  restraint  fascinates  me.  Let  me 
tell  you,  my  grandmother  was  a  gipsy;  perhaps  that 
accounts  for  all  that  is  erratic  in  my  nature,  at  all 
events  we'll  put  it  down  to  that.  I  will  come  when  you 


12  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

want  me,  or  when  you  have  anything  interesting  to 
show  me,  but  now  you  have  returned  I  feel  no  longer 
bound  to  stay  in  London." 

"  Strange,"  said  the  doctor  to  a  friend  next  day, 
"  that  a  man  of  such  ability,  and  one  so  deeply  inter- 
ested in  science  should  bury  himself  alive  in  the  depths 
of  the  country.  Well,  there's  no  accounting  for  taste." 
For  none  of  them  knew  of  the  strong  ties  of  love  which 
drew  that  sturdy  Welshman  to  his  simple  peasant 
father,  and  to  the  old  mill  in  the  valley ;  above  all,  no- 
body knew  of  the  inflexible  code  of  honour  which  laid 
its  silent  stern  hand  upon  him,  and  compelled  him  to 
return  to  face  a  duty,  and  to  keep  a  promise  which  he 
had  made  eight  years  earlier,  and  which,  alas !  had 
become  distasteful  to  him. 

So  Michael  Lloyd  went  home,  to  the  delight  of  his 
father,  and  to  the  agreeable  surprise  of  Dr.  Rees,  of 
Maentrevor,  who,  having  saved  a  modest  competency, 
was  desirous  of  selling  his  practice  in  a  year  or  so  to 
a  younger  and  more  energetic  man. 

Much  of  this  had  passed  through  Michael's  mind  as 
he  traversed  the  bit  of  broad  road  from  which  the 
path  through  the  wood  diverged.  As  he  walked  under 
the  flickering  shadows  of  the  trees,  which  were  rustling 
in  the  light  summer  breeze,  he  looked  about  him  for 
some  sign  of  the  girl  whose  footsteps  he  was  following, 
and  sure  enough,  there  she  was  at  a  turn  in  the  path, 
standing  in  the  light  of  the  full  moon.  How  pretty 
she  looked  there !  How  graceful  the  lines  of  her  figure ! 
How  patiently  she  waited,  as  she  had  waited  for  eight 
years!  How  cruel,  how  base  would  it  be  were  he  now 
to  forsake  her!  Heaven  forbid!  How  could  such  a 
mean  thought  have  entered  his  mind?  And  with  a 
pang  of  self-reproach  he  unconsciously  threw  more 


13 

tenderness  than  usual  into  his  greeting ;  not  for  worlds 
would  he  have  let  her  suspect  that  his  feelings  towards 
her  had  changed. 

"  Ah,  Essylt !  hast  waited  long,  mercli-i?  "  and  tak- 
ing her  basket  with  one  hand,  he  slipped  the  other 
round  her  waist,  and  thus  they  walked  together  under 
silver  beams  that  cast  a  glamour  of  beauty  and  ro- 
mance over  every  scene. 

"Waited  long?  Not  a  minute,  and  a  good  thing! 
I  have  not  much  patience." 

"There's  pretty  thou  art  looking  to-night  in  the 
moonlight,  and  thou  hast  been  very  patient  with  me, 
merch-iy  waiting  all  these  years." 

"Oh,  that's  different  kind  of  waiting,"  and  with  a 
little  toss  of  her  head,  she  added,  "  Don't  think  I  am 
in  a  hurry.  I  am  very  happy  here  with  Peggy,  and 
everybody  is  saying  that  a  girl  is  a  fool  to  marry  too 
young,  so  take  your  time,  Maychael,  and  don't  hurry 
yourself  for  me." 

"  No,  no ! "  said  Michael,  with  a  laugh,  "  only  for 
my  own  sake,  merch-i,  and  there  is  no  need  for  us  to 
wait  any  longer.  Hast  heard  Robert  Jones  and  his 
wife  are  going  to  America  in  the  spring?  " 

"What  of  that?"  said  Essylt. 

"Only  that  they  can't  take  their  house  with  them, 
so  there  it  is  for  us." 

"  Robert  Jones's  house  with  its  thatched  roof,  and 
its  old-fashioned  door  like  a  church  porch!  Wouldst 
live  in  that,  Maychael?  Ach-y-$l  No,  indeed,  / 
wouldn't  like  it  whatever.  No,  I  would  rather  live  in 
the  old  *  Mill-tail,'  as  they  call  our  cottage,  than  go 
there." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Michael,  "  if  that  is  thy  feeling 
about  it,  we  must  look  for  another,  because  there  is 


14  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

no  sense  in  waiting  any  longer.  There's  an  ugly  new 
house  outside  Maentrevor ;  let  us  take  that ;  'twill  do 
for  a  time  till  I  find  a  better,"  Michael's  "better" 
meaning  less  staringly  new,  and  more  mellowed  by 
age. 

"Better?"  said  Essylt.  "In  my  deed  I  would  be 
quite  satisfied  with  that,  nice  new  slates  on  the  roof, 
and  two  windows  downstairs,  and  three  up,  besides 
the  back  windows,  'tis  a  very  nice  house.  But, 
Maychael,"  she  said,  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm,  "  I 
don't  want  to  be  married  till  the  spring;  we  have 
waited  so  long  that  we  can  wait  a  little  longer." 

He  was  ashamed  of  the  feeling  of  relief  that  her 
words  brought  to  him,  and  the  knowledge  of  it  made 
him  all  the  more  urgent  in  his  suit.  "The  spring! 
that  will  be  full  nine  months  from  now ;  'tis  all  non- 
sense, lodes,  we  had  better  be  married  at  once,  and  live 
in  the  old  mill  till  the  new  house  is  ready." 

"  No,  Maychael ;  I  have  waited  eight  years  for  thee, 
now  thou  must  wait  nine  months  for  me.  We  will  be 
married  then — or  never,"  she  added. 

"Well,  there  is  something  in  that,  certainly,"  said 
Michael.  Unconsciously  his  arm  slipped  down  from 
her  waist,  and  they  walked  separately  along  the  nar- 
row path,  at  a  turn  of  which,  in  the  depth  of  the  wood, 
they  came  upon  a  little  tarn  which  lay  in  silent  soli- 
tude embossed  in  the  trees;  a  stream  of  silver  crossed 
it  where  the  moonbeams  caught  its  ripples. 

"  Ah !  Llyn  Dystaw,"  he  said,  "  how  lovely  it  is  to- 
night!" 

"  Yes,  to-night  it  is  pretty  well,"  said  Essylt ;  "  but 
most  times  'tis  gloomy  enough." 

"Yes.  Dost  know  the  story  of  it?  how  the  stream 
that  comes  down  from  the  mountains,  and  runs  through 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  15 

our  mill  was  once  a  fairy,  and  fell  in  love  with  a  bold 
knight,  who  roamed  through  these  woods  in  the  olden 
days,  but  he  cared  not  for  her,  and  rode  away  to  the 
West.  She  followed  him  as  far  as  this,  but  here  she 
lost  her  way,  and  could  go  no  further,  so  here  she  re- 
mains ever  since — a  little  lonely  lake  waiting  for  her 
woodland  lover." 

"  There's  nonsense ! "  said  Essylt. 

"Yes,  but  pretty  nonsense.  Dost  not  think  so,  lass? 
Wouldst  like  me  to  tell  thee  some  more  of  the  tales  and 
legends  that  belong  to  these  old  woods  ?  " 

" Ach-y-fi,  no!  I  would  rather  not  hear  anything 
about  fairies  or  streams  or  '  bwcies  '* — 'tis  all  non- 
sense. Here's  Will  Cobbler's,  and  here  we  part;  good 
night,  lad." 

"  Oh,  stop  a  bit,"  said  Michael,  "  not  good  night 
yet,  Essylt;  make  haste  with  Will,  for  I  will  wait  for 
thee,  and  walk  back  to  the  stile  into  the  road." 

"Twt,  twt!  what  for?"  said  Essylt.  "Dost  think 
I  am  afraid?  Not  I!  Go  on,  Maychael,  and  see  old 
Jones  Gelligaer — 'tis  late  to-night." 

"  Not  before  I've  seen  thee  back  to  the  stile,"  and, 
knowing  from  long  experience  that  it  would  be  easier 
to  turn  the  mill  stream  than  Michael  Lloyd  from  his 
purpose,  she  made  no  further  demur,  but  hurrying 
into  the  shoemaker's,  was  out  again  in  a  few  moments, 
and  ready  to  turn  back  to  the  path  through  the  wood. 
Once  more  Michael's  arm  was  round  her  waist,  and  so 
they  walked  together,  side  by  side  their  shadows 
blended  into  one — their  thoughts,  their  lives,  their 
hearts  divided  by  a  host  of  different  tastes,  instincts, 
and  hopes. 

There  was  a  kiss  at  the  stile,  of  course,  and  Essylt 

*  Ghosts. 


16  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

looked  very  pretty  again  as  she  waved  a  last  good 
night   in   the   moonlight. 

As  he  turned  back  along  the  woodland  path,  Michael 
gave  himself  up  to  the  dreams,  and  doubts,  and  ques- 
tionings which  so  often  weighed  upon  his  mind.  "  Why 
could  he  not  love  this  simple  girl  whom  he  had  once 
been  ready  to  lose  his  life  for?  She  was  not  changed! 
No,  the  change  was  in  him;  he  was  not  the  first  man 
who  had  married  a  peasant  girl.  Was  he  not  of  peas- 
ant blood  himself?  and  was  not  Essylt  beautiful,  and 
pure,  and  guileless?  Why,  oh,  why  could  he  not  love 
her  as  he  had  once  done?  What  was  the  gulf  that 
stretched  between  them  ?  "  His  heart  told  him  in  an- 
swer to  these  questions  that  a  whole  world  lay  between 
them — the  world  of  thought,  of  sentiment,  of  imagi- 
nation ;  he  knew  it  all  to-night,  and  seemed  to  realise 
it  more  plainly  than  he  had  ever  done  before ;  but 
though  he  knew  that  love  had  fled,  and  passion  was 
dead,  he  did  not  flinch  from  the  prospect.  "  Dear 
anwl!  there  are  thousands  who  walk  through  life  with 
a  secret  care  as  companion.  What  does  it  matter? 
only  Essylt  must  never  know!  No,  that  I  must  see  to, 
and,  please  God,  I  will." 


CHAPTER   H 

ON  the  brow  of  the  hill  overlooking  the  Meivon  valley 
and  its  gable  mill  stood  a  house  of  grey  stone,  which 
had  in  times  past  been  a  place  of  some  importance, 
as  witness  the  broad  road  that  had  once  been  a  car- 
riage-drive sweeping  across  its  front,  and  ending  in  a 
rusty  gateway,  quite  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  its 
wall  pillars  on  each  side  crumbling  to  decay. 

No  carriages  now  swept  through  those  gates,  for 
what  had  once  been  park-land  had  long  been  let  out 
in  grazing  lots  to  the  neighbouring  farmers.  The  drive 
itself  was  covered  with  moss,  except  just  in  the  centre, 
where  a  well-worn  path  marked  the  track  of  the  cat- 
tle going  to  and  from  the  fields.  Although  Caefran,  as 
the  house  was  called,  had  lost  all  claims  to  importance 
or  grandeur,  it  was  still  inhabited  by  the  descendants 
of  the  old  family  who  had  once  owned  the  estate,  and 
the  name — Owen  of  Caefran — continued  to  be  held  in 
honour  and  respect  throughout  the  Meivon  valley. 
Beyond  that  district  it  was  only  a  name,  for  the  sister- 
in-law  of  the  present  owner  of  the  place,  Mrs.  Owen,  a 
widow  (Colonel  Ellis  Owen  had  never  lived  there  him- 
self) ,  with  her  son  and  daughter,  found  it  hard  enough 
with  their  small  income  to  make  both  ends  meet  with- 
out attempting  to  keep  in  touch  with  the  outer  world. 
Fortunately  for  them  a  sufficient  sum  of  money  had 
been  settled  upon  Tom,  the  only  son,  to  pay  for  his 
education,  and  to  article  him  to  a  lawyer  in  Maentre- 
vor,  and  his  satisfactory  establishment  in  the  little 
town,  with  his  week-end  visits  to  the  old  home,  helped 

17 


18  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

much  to  brighten  the  lives  of  his  mother  and  sister, 
who  struggled  so  hard  to  keep  up  appearances  and  to 
eke  out  their  small  income,  thankful  only  that  they 
were  able  to  keep  together,  and  were  allowed  by  Col- 
onel Owen  to  live  on  at  Caefran. 

Mrs.  Owen  having  married  very  early  was  still 
young  enough  to  be  a  companion  as  well  as  guardian 
to  her  son  and  daughter,  who  loved  her  with  a  devotion 
almost  amounting  to  idolatry.  Did  Tom  bring  home 
from  the  town  a  glowing  account  of  some  beautiful 
picture  he  had  seen,  or  some  lovely  girl  he  had  met, 
Barbara  would  raise  her  brown  eyes  to  his  and  ask, 
"  As  beautiful  as  mother  ?  " 

"  Well,  very  nearly  indeed ;  not  quite,  of  course,  for 
I  have  never  seen  anyone  as  pretty  as  she  is." 

"  I  should  think  not,  indeed,  but  she's  the  most  trou- 
blesome mother  in  the  world — look  at  her,  Tom,"  Bar- 
bara said  one  day,  when  they  caught  sight  of  Mrs. 
Owen  approaching  from  the  garden,  and  starting  up, 
the  girl  ran  to  meet  the  delinquent,  who  came  smiling 
up  the  garden  path  carrying  a  basket  of  gooseberries, 
her  hands  covered  with  earth,  her  skirt  turned  up  and 
pinned  behind  her. 

"  Come  in,  you  naughty  woman,"  Barbara  said,  un- 
pinning her  skirt,  and  leading  the  laughing  culprit 
into  the  house,  where  Tom  stood  waiting,  and  trying 
to  look  properly  reproving.  "  Look  at  her,  Tom !  see 
her  hands,  and  her  shoes  all  covered  with  dirt.  Indeed, 
indeed.  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  her;  she's  like 
Peggy  Jerry  herself." 

"Nonsense,  children!"  said  Mrs.  Owen.  "No 
more  of  your  lectures,  but  come  out,  both  of  you;  'tis 
such  a  lovely  day,  and  the  weeds  are  growing  so  fast. 
Come  out,  dears,  and  we'll  dirty  our  hands  together." 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  19 

"Yes,  come  on,  Barbara,"  said  Tom.  "Mother 
loves  work,  and  why  shouldn't  she,  if  she  likes  ?  " 

"  Well,  of  course,  if  she  likes,  come,  then,  and  we'll 
weed,  and  she  shall  look  on  and  eat  gooseberries.  I 
cannot  bear  to  see  her  with  her  gown  pinned  up,  and 
those  hideous  shoes  on  her  pretty  feet." 

"  Oh,  Barbara,  dear ! "  said  Mrs.  Owen,  "  what  does 
it  matter  what  we  do  here?  Let  us  be  happy  together 
in  our  own  way,  we  three ;  there  is  no  one  to  be  shocked 
at  us.  Nobody  ever  comes  here,  you  know." 

"  No,  nobody,"  said  Barbara  a  little  sadly. 

"  So  come  along  then,  we  three  together,"  said  Tom, 
and  with  an  arm  round  the  waist  of  each,  he  guided 
them  down  the  broad  alley  to  the  old  walled  garden, 
where,  truth  to  tell,  both  mother  and  daughter  spent 
many  an  hour  in  hard'  work,  helped  sometimes  by 
Peggy  Jerry,  when  she  could  be  spared  from  the 
household,  for  the  vegetables  and  fruit  were  a  valuable 
asset  in  their  small  menage. 

The  work  in  the  garden  was  a  labour  of  love  to 
them  both,  although  to  Barbara,  sometimes,  the  sight 
of  her  mother  looking  tired  and  earthy  brought  a  pang 
of  haughty  pride.  How  different  would  her  state  have 
been  had  fortune  not  turned  her  back  upon  their  fam- 
ily so  persistently;  and  the  rather  thin,  dark  face 
would  suddenly  sadden,  the  eyebrows  would  pucker, 
and  the  short  upper  lip  would  take  a  scornful  curve, 
as  she  thought  how  different  might  have  been  the  fate 
of  Mrs.  Owen  of  Caefran.  And  yet  how  happy  they 
were,  those  three,  when  during  Tom's  frequent  visits 
they  walked  the  old  paths  together,  or  mother  and 
daughter  sang  duets  to  Tom's  accompaniments  on  the 
piano,  which  was  the  only  luxury  they  felt  unable  to 
forego. 


20  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

A  deep  and  close  attachment  existed  between  the 
brother  and  sister,  though  to  a  stranger  it  might  not 
be  apparent,  as  in  their  intercourse  with  each  other 
they  were  chary  of  the  terms  of  endearment  which  they 
lavished  upon  their  mother,  who  made  the  brightness 
of  their  lives,  and  who  drew  her  own  happiness  from 
the  love  of  her  children. 

"Oh,  what  a  lovely  day!"  said  Barbara,  tugging 
at  an  obstinate  weed.  "I  wonder,  Tom,  what  makes 
life  seem  so  much  more  joyous  and  hopeful  on  some 
days  than  on  others?  To-day,  now,  it  seems  quite 
enough  happiness  to  live." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Tom ;  "  but  life  always  seems 
pretty  jolly  to  me.  Look  at  mother  tiring  herself  to 
death  over  that  bed  of  carrots." 

"  Yes,  she  will  not  rest." 

"  Well,  as  long  as  she's  happy,  dear  darling,"  said 
Tom,  "  it's  all  right.  Weather,  I  should  think,  makes 
a  difference  in  our  feelings,  and  nobody  couM  be  other- 
wise than  cheerful  on  such  a  day  as  this.  Who  is 
that  coming  up  the  drive?  " 

"  Up  the  drive? "  laughed  Barbara,  "  sounds  so 
grand,  Tom.  Lady  Gwyn  Morlais,  no  doubt,  coming 
to  call,  or  Colonel  Ivor  Lloyd,  of  Hafod,  coming  to 
tea  and  tennis — there's  no  cake  in  the  house,  but  that 
won't  matter,  as  we  are  on  such  friendly  terms,"  and 
her  little  dainty  lip  curled  in  scorn,  and  a  haughty 
look  passed  over  the  delicate,  clear-cut  features. 

"  Barbara,  you're  awfully  proud,"  said  Tom,  "  and 
I  do  believe  sometimes  you  pine  for  the  grandeur  and 
gaieties  which  Mr.  Preece  tells  me  used  to  make  this 
house  quite  a  hall  of  revelry  in  the  olden  time." 

"  Well,  I  confess  that  I  should  have  liked  a  taste  of 
them  before  they  were  quite  over." 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  21 

"I  expect  we  have  to  thank  those  revels  for  our 
present  limited  establishment,"  said  Tom ;  "  Peggy 
Jerry  for  cook  and  housemaid;  for  gardener,  Peggy 
Jerry — and  for  a  change,  Peggy  Jerry  as  laundress." 

"  You  forget  Essylt,"  said  Barbara,  laughingly, 
and  with  the  passing  away  of  that  look  of  angry  pride 
one  saw  that  her  face,  although  not  beautiful,  was  ex- 
ceedingly attractive,  with  its  deep  brown  eyes,  and  the 
eager  sensitiveness  of  the  mouth;  not  an  inflexion  of 
the  voice,  not  a  shade  of  humour  or  pathos,  but  was 
reflected  in  that  expressive  face. 

"Forget  Essylt?"  said  Tom;  "but  she's  not  on  our 
regular  staff;  forget  her?  No,  by  jove,  I  don't!  That 
young  woman's  mysterious  ways  have  been  puzzling 
me  a  good  deal  lately." 

"  Mysterious  ?  "  said  Barbara ;  "  there's  nothing 
very  mysterious  about  those  blue  beads  she  wears 
whatever;  they  are  conspicuous  enough.  'Tis  Dr.  Rees 
I  see  driving  up.  Need  we  go  in  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Tom ;  "  he  likes  to  come  in  here,  and 
smoke  on  that  bench." 

"Well,  here  you  are,"  said  a  cheery  voice,  while 
Barbara  stuck  her  trowel  in  the  ground,  and  Tom 
called  out  an  admonishing  "  Mother !  " 

Dr.  Rees  had  started  from  home  that  morning  with 
the  special  object  of  acquainting  his  friends  and  pa- 
tients with  his  intention  of  going  away  for  a  some- 
what prolonged  visit  to  Norway.  It  would  have  been 
very  easy  to  say,  "  I  am  going  away  for  a  three 
months'  holiday,  for  I  want  a  change  badly,"  but  this 
would  have  been  very  unlike  Dr.  Rees,  for  being  blessed 
or  cursed  with  an  over-tender  heart,  he  never  said  any- 
thing that  was  likely  to  offend  or  give  pain  if  it  was 
possible  to  avoid  it.  Therefore,  when  he  returned  to 


22  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

his  home  in  the  afternoon,  he  had  left  the  impression 
at  every  house  at  which  he  had  called  that  he  was  only 
going  away  for  a  very  short  time,  and  to  no  greater 
distance  than  perhaps  the  neighbouring  county. 

"  Very  glad  to  see  you,  Dr.  Rees,"  said  Mrs.  Owen, 
trying  to  hide  her  earthy  hands  under  a  bundle  of  wild 
poppies. 

"  Well,  I  was  on  my  way  to  Hafod,  so  turned  in  to 
see  you — thought  I  should  find  you  in  the  garden,"  at 
which  remark  a  little  flicker  of  annoyance  passed  over 
Barbara's  eyelids,  for  she  always  hated  the  idea  that 
anyone  should  guess  that  ishe  and  her  mother  ex- 
pended any  manual  labour  upon  the  cultivation  of  the 
fruit  and  vegetables  which  Peggy  Jerry  sold  regularly 
in  the  Maentrevor  market. 

"Yes;  the  weeds  grow  so  fast,  and  we  love  this  old 
garden,  you  know." 

"  I  should  think  you  did,  indeed,"  said  the  doctor 
1 — "  the  prettiest  garden  in  the  county,  especially  since 
that  wall  has  fallen,  giving  you  a  view  of  the  valley 
and  the  woods.  Ah!  I  see  I  shan't  be  wanted  here  in  a 
hurry — Mrs.  Owen  blooming  as  a  girl  of  twenty,  and 
Miss  Barbara  looking  very  fit  and  well;  Tom,  here,  I 
see  often  enough  in  the  town,  but,  'pon  my  word,  I 
must  be  getting  old,  you  know.  Never  knew  the  road 
up  here  from  the  valley  was  so  steep.  I  always  walk 
up  the  hills  to  save  poor  old  '  Fanny,'  for  she's  getting 
very  old  too.  Think  I  must  get  away  for  a  change 
some  day." 

**  Yes,  do,"  said  Mrs.  Owen.  "  Oh,  dear !  how  we 
should  miss  you,  though  we  never  want  you  profes- 
sionally." 

"  Well,  indeed,  I  have  been  thinking  of  going  on  a 
little  fishing  expedition  somewhere  for  a  week  or  a 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  23 

fortnight."  He  had,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  just  made 
final  arrangements  for  starting  on  his  tour,  but  did 
not  hesitate  to  soften  the  announcement  of  his  impend- 
ing absence  by  thus  disguising  the  truth. 

"How  jolly!"  said  Tom;  "and  who'll  take  care 
of  your  practice  while  you're  away?" 

"  Oh,  that'll  be  all  right ;  there's  this  young  Dr. 
Michael  Lloyd,  you  know,  staying  with  me  now;  he'd 
see  to  my  patients  while  I'm  gone.  He  is  one  of  the 
cleverest  men  in  the  profession!  For  the  last  year  he 
has  been  locum  tenens  for  Dr.  Kirk  Severn,  the  great 
specialist  on  nervous  disorders,  you  know.  I  have  a 
letter  from  him  now  in  my  pocket,  speaking  in  very 
high  terms  of  Michael  Lloyd,  and  regretting  his  de- 
cision not  to  accept  his  offer  of  partnership." 

"Dear  me!  how  unwise  of  the  young  man,"  said 
Mrs.  Owen.  "  Well,  Dr.  Severn's  loss  is  our  gain ;  if 
he  settled  down  here  we  may  think  ourselves  very 
lucky." 

Barbara  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Well,"  she  said, 
"  all  I  hope  is  that  none  of  us  here  will  be  ill  while 
you're  away." 

"  Not  very  likely,"  said  the  doctor ;  "  but  if  you 
are,  you  can  safely  trust  yourselves  to  Michael 
Lloyd." 

"  Old  Phil-y-Velin's  son ! "  said  Barbara,  arching 
her  pretty  eyebrows. 

"  And  a  very  nice  fellow  he  is,"  said  Tom.  "  He 
supped  with  Mr.  Preece  the  other  night,  and  he  was 
delighted  with  him,  such  an  honest,  straightforward 
fellow,  Barbara — talked  about  his  old  father  as  if  he'd 
been  a  king — indeed,  there  was  something  very  nice 
about  it,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say,"  said  the  girl,  as  if  tired  of  the 


24>  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

subject.  "Shall  we  go  in,  mother?  Dr.  Rees  would 
like  a  cup  of  tea." 

"  No,  no,  no,  I  must  go,"  said  the  doctor.  "  I  just 
thought  I  wouldn't  go  away  without  letting  you 
know.  Well,  good-bye;  mind  you  keep  well  while  I'm 
away." 

"  When  are  you  going,  sir?  "  said  Tom,  helping  him 
into  the  gig. 

"  Oh,  some  day  next  week,"  and  he  drove  away 
down  the  green  velvet  drive. 

The  next  day  was  one  of  June's  brightest  and  fair- 
est, with  a  sky  of  turquoise  blue.  The  breeze,  laden 
with  the  scent  of  the  sweet  peas,  came  in  through  the 
open  window,  where  the  Caefran  family  were  sitting 
at  their  simple  breakfast.  It  was  time  for  Tom  to  be 
off,  but  he  lingered  a  moment  to  look  at  the  news- 
paper, which  he  took  regularly,  and  left  for  his  moth- 
er's and  sister's  edification. 

"  It's  getting  late,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Owen's  gentle 
voice. 

"No,  mother,"  said  Tom,  laying  down  the  engross- 
ing paper.  "  Plenty  of  time  for  a  walk  round  the 
garden.  Do  come,  both  of  you;  I  want  to  show  you 
a  nest  high  up  on  the  wall,  right  in  the  ivy." 

"  A  nest !  "  and  both  women  were  ready  at  once, 
and  soon  peering  up  at  the  moss-grown  stones,  where 
a  feather  and  a  scrap  of  hay  showed  that  a  happy 
little  pair  had  made  a  leafy  home. 

"  Three  little  blue  eggs,  mother,"  said  Tom,  ad- 
justing a  ladder,  up  which  Mrs.  Owen  climbed  as 
lightly  and  easily  as  Barbara  herself  would  have  done, 
and  from  the  top  of  the  high  wall  she  peeped  into  the 
nest,  her  eager  face  dimpling  and  sparkling  with  that 
charm  of  expression  which  often  made  it  more  beauti- 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  25 

ful  than  that  of  her  daughter;  the  grey  eyes  so  like 
Tom's ;  the  golden  hair  which  Barbara  loved  to  ar- 
range. The  latter  was  standing  below,  waiting  im- 
patiently for  her  turn  on  the  ladder.  How  it  hap- 
pened nobody  ever  knew,  but  by  some  untoward  chance 
the  ladder  slipped,  and  Mrs.  Owen,  grasping  at  the 
upper  rung,  swung  round  with  her  back  to  the  wall, 
and  fell  heavily  to  the  ground.  Both  Barbara  and 
Tom  rushed  forward  in  time  to  break  her  fall  some- 
what, but  not  so  as  to  prevent  it  entirely,  for  she 
sank  through  their  arms,  and  lay  white  and  uncon- 
scious on  the  ground,  the  sliding  ladder  falling  over 
them.  In  a  moment  Tom  had  thrust  it  aside,  and  with 
words  of  passionate  love  and  devotion  the  boy  and 
girl  bent  over  the  prostrate  form,  and  tried  to  re- 
call colour  to  the  face  and  life  to  the  motionless 
limbs. 

"  Oh,  darling  mother,"  sobbed  Barbara,  "  are  you 
hurt?  Speak  to  us,  speak  to  us,  mother  dearest,  or  I 
shall  go  mad!"  she  cried  wildly. 

"  Hush,  Barbara,"  said  Tom  more  calmly,  though 
his  face,  too,  was  blanched,  and  his  lips  trembling. 
"  She  has  only  fainted ;  she  can't  be  hurt,  for  I  broke 
her  fall.  Run  and  fetch  Peggy  Jerry,  and  bring  the 
wicker  chair,  out,"  and  instantly  the  girl  sped  over  the 
ground,  while  Tom  held  the  beloved  head,  and  pressed 
the  listless  hand  to  his  lips. 

He  was  soon  comforted  by  seeing  a  quiver  in  the 
eyelids,  and  before  they  had  returned  with  the  basket- 
chair,  Mrs.  Owen  had  opened  her  eyes,  and  smiled  into 
Tom's  woe-begone  face;  but  she  moaned  a  little  as 
Peggy's  strong  arms  lifted  her  into  the  chair,  and 
when  they  had  laid  her  on  the  old  frayed  sofa  in  the 
dining-room  she  seemed  to  lose  consciousness  again, 


26  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

and  made  no  answer  to  Tom's  and  Barbara's  tender 
appeals. 

"  Oh,  Mestress  anwil!  What  have  they  done  to 
you?  "  said  Peggy,  looking  reprovingly  from  one  to 
the  other  of  the  two  young  people,  who  were  already 
so  full  of  self-reproach. 

"  I  shouldn't  have  let  her  get  on  the  ladder,"  said 
Tom ;  "  it  slipped,  and  she  fell  to  the  ground,  but  I 
broke  her  fall." 

"  Stop  you  here,"  said  Peggy,  the  resourceful  and 
energetic ;  "  stop  you  here,  while  I  fetch  Dr.  Rees ;  he's 
close  by  at  Tyissa,  with  Mary  the  daughter — I'll 
catch  him  before  he  goes."  And  in  a  very  short  time 
she  returned,  bringing  him  with  her. 

Mrs.  Owen  was  already  reviving,  and  even  smiling 
at  the  looks  of  distress  on  the  faces  of  her  son  and 
daughter. 

"  'Twas  only  a  fall,"  she  said ;  "  I  have  hurt  my 
back  a  little." 

"Hurt  your  back,"  said  the  doctor,  looking  at  Bar- 
bara. "  How  was  that  ?  How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

"  Only  a  fall ! "  interposed  Peggy  indignantly. 
"What's  this,  then,  soaking  through  on  to  the  sofa? 
Blood,  I  tell  you.  Ach-y-$!  Stand  aside,  all  of  you." 

Tom  and  Barbara,  shocked  and  frightened,  obeyed, 
and  Dr.  Rees,  humouring  Peggy,  waited,  while  she 
gently  turned  and  adjusted  the  fragile  form. 

Upon  examination  it  was  found  that  the  thin  sum- 
mer garments  were  torn  down  the  back,  and  upon  en- 
larging the  tear,  they  discovered  a  clean-cut  wound 
running  down  several  inches  close  beside  the  spine ;  it 
had  bled  a  good  deal  while  they  carried  her  in. 

"  Now,  Miss  Barbara,  you  have  the  sharpest  eyes, 
I  expect,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Will  you  run  out  to  the 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  27 

orchard,  and  see  amongst  the  weeds  if  you  can  find  a 
little  pale  blue  flower  like  this,"  and  he  took  one  out 
from  between  the  leaves  of  his  pocket-book.  "  I  know 
it  grows  there,  for  I  have  seen  it  "  (which  he  never  had) 
• — "  quite  at  the  further  corner ;  'tis  a  marvellous 
healer  of  wounds."  And  in  a  moment  Barbara,  breath- 
less and  pale,  was  speeding  down  the  tangled  paths, 
and  seeking  for  the  flower  whose  habitat  was  no  nearer 
than  the  heights  of  the  Appennines. 

"  Now,"  said  Dr.  Rees,  "  we'll  sew  it  up  while  she's 
gone.  Go  out,  Tom,  and  detain  her  for  ten  minutes." 

One  can  live  a  year  in  ten  minutes,  nay,  a  lifetime 
of  endurance  may  be  experienced  in  that  short  space 
of  time,  so  Tom  thought  as  in  the  furthest  corner  of 
the  orchard  he  found  Barbara  frantically  searching 
under  the  trees. 

"  Oh,  Tom,"  she  said,  "  there  is  not  a  blue  flower  of 
any  kind  here.  What  could  Dr.  Rees  have  meant?" 

"  Possibly  he  saw  it  at  the  end  of  the  paddock.  Let 
us  run  down  there.  I  have  seen  something  blue  grow- 
ing there."  And  together  they  ran  through  the  long 
grass. 

"It  can't  be  this,"  he  said,  gathering  a  bunch  of 
the  common  eyebright,  and  taking  a  furtive  look  at 
his  watch — five  minutes  were  gone !  "  See,  there's  an- 
other kind  under  that  further  hedge ;  come  along,  Bar- 
bara," and  he  sped  on  across  the  field,  the  girl  follow- 
ing eagerly. 

Again  Tom  looked  at  his  watch,  as  they  dragged 
at  the  flowers. 

"  But  they're  waiting,"  cried  Barbara — "  waiting, 
and  dear  mother  in  pain." 

"  Come  along,  then,"  he  said ;  and  breathless  and 
panting  they  ran  back  to  find  their  mother  quite  con- 


28  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

scious,  and  propped  up  by  the  cushions  which  Peggy 
and  the  doctor  had  adjusted  for  her  comfort. 

"  There,"  he  said ;  "  'tis  only  a  clean  cut,  not  much 
more  than  a  scratch.  Couldn't  find  the  blue  flower? 
Ts — ts !  Well,  well !  I  know  they  used  to  grow  there ; 
but  never  mind,  they  won't  be  wanted  now.  But  the 
more  quiet  she  is  the  better,  of  course,  and  I  expect 
in  a  day  or  two  she'll  be  all  right.  Come  along!"  he 
said  in  his  usual  jovial  manner,  "  you  mustn't  give  us 
these  frights  again,  you  know,  or  I  shall  be  having 
Tom  and  Miss  Barbara  both  on  the  sick  list." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Barbara;  "indeed,  we'll  be  all  right 
now,  won't  we,  Tom?" 

"  There !  I  declare  she  looks  quite  herself  again. 
Feeling  quite  comfortable  now,  aren't  you,  Mrs. 
Owen?" 

"Yes,  quite,"  said  the  invalid. 

"  The  cut  doesn't  hurt  you  now,  does  it  ?  " 

"  No,  only  a  little  soreness." 

"  Come  along,  then,  Tom ;  let's  have  a  look  at  the 
wall.  I  can't  think  how  this  happened."  And  to- 
gether they  went  to  the  garden,  where  the  ladder  was 
still  lying  on  the  ground,  the  ivy  torn  away  by  its 
fall. 

"  She  was  looking  at  a  nest,  close  between  that  top 
branch  and  the  wall." 

"  Oh,  I  see,"  said  the  doctor,  putting  on  his  glasses, 
and  examining  the  mossy  wall  more  closely.  "  Here 
it  is,  the  cause  of  all  the  mischief,  look  here!"  and 
Tom  pressed  forward  and  saw  a  bright  sharp  knife, 
which  had  been  hidden  by  the  ivy,  with  a  curved  blade 
for  pruning,  the  handle  thrust  into  a  hole  between  the 
old  bricks,  the  keen  blade  projecting  some  three  inches 
from  the  wall. 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  29 

"Oh,  I  see  it  all!"  said  Tom;  «we  had  old  John 
Pant  here  for  a  day  not  long  ago,  and  he  lost  his  knife ; 
here  it  is,  of  course,  where  he  must  have  thrust  it  him~ 
self." 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  doctor ;  "  and  your  mother, 
twisting  round,  must  have  slipped  down  over  that 
sharp  point." 

"It  was  I  who  lured  her  out  to  see  the  nest,"  said 
Tom.  "  I'd  give  worlds  if  I  hadn't  done  so." 

'*  Twt,  twt!  Nonsense !  We  all  know  you  and  your 
sister  would  give  your  lives  for  her  any  day.  See!  it 
is  a  clean  bright  blade — not  even  a  rusty  nail;  so 
there's  no  danger  of  blood-poisoning." 

"  Blood-poisoning ! "  said  Tom,  aghast  at  the  sug- 
gestion. "  Oh,  Lord !  I  shall  never  forgive  myself." 

"  No  danger  of  it,  I  told  you,  man,"  said  the  doctor 
impatiently,  turning  sharply  upon  him.  "  She'll  be 
all  right  to-morrow  or  the  next  day.  Come!  We'll 
have  another  look  at  her  before  I  go,"  and  they  re- 
turned to  the  room,  where  they  found  Barbara  sitting 
on  a  low  stool,  her  cheek  laid  on  one  of  her  mother's 
hands,  while  with  the  other  Mrs.  Owen  was  tenderly 
stroking  the  girl's  brown  hair. 

"Well,"  said  the  doctor,  "we've  found  the  cause  of 
it  all — old  John  Pant's  knife  sticking  out  of  the  wall, 
clear  and  bright  as  a  needle;  no  rust  there,  to  do  you 
any  harm.  I'll  go  home  now,  and  make  up  a  little 
sedative  for  you,  and  send  it  up  at  once.  I  should  lie 
still,  where  you  are  to-day,  if  I  were  you,  and  not  go 
to  bed  till  to-night,  and  then  be  carried  up  carefully. 
I'll  come  again  to-morrow.  Good-bye,  Mrs.  Owen.  I 
leave  you  in  good  hands.  Miss  Barbara  and  Peggy 
will  take  care  of  you.  Tom,  you  can  safely  go  to  your 
office." 


30  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

"  I  shall  not  go  to-day,  sir,"  said  Tom,  "  if  you  will 
kindly  call  and  explain  to  Mr.  Preece." 

"  All  right,  all  right ! "  the  doctor  called  back. 
"  You  are  two  cowards,  both  of  you,"  and  he  shook 
his  finger  at  them  laughingly  as  he  left. 

Barbara  followed  him  into  the  drive  with  a  few  last 
questions,  and  Peggy  going  out  for  a  moment  to  at- 
tend to  some  household  matter,  Tom  was  left  alone 
with  the  invalid,  and  seized  upon  the  opportunity  to 
seat  himself  on  Barbara's  stool,  and  clasping  his 
mother's  two  hands,  poured  out  such  expressions  of 
love  and  tender  regret  as  he  would  have  been  ashamed 
for  anyone  to  hear,  except  the  loved  being  who  hith- 
erto was  all  in  all  in  both  his  and  his  sister's  warm 
impulsive  hearts. 

When  Barbara  returned  he  made  room  for  her  with 
no  sign  of  the  strong  emotion  which  had  swept  over 
him  during  her  absence.  But  she  knew  it  all  as  she 
took  her  seat  on  the  stool  which  he  vacated,  for  there 
was  not  much  that  passed  through  the  minds  or  hearts 
of  one  of  these  two  that  was  not  known  and  understood 
by  the  other ;  for  they  had  grown  up  in  peculiar  isola- 
tion, alone  in  that  gaunt  house  peopled  by  memories 
and  traditions  of  the  past,  compelled  by  their  small 
means  to  live  in  seclusion,  which  to  some  people  of 
their  age  and  spirit  would  have  been  uncongenial  in 
the  extreme,  but  to  these  two  such  was  not  the  case, 
for  Tom  found  in  the  small  events  of  a  country  town, 
and  in  the  business  interests  of  Mr.  Preece's  growing 
practice,  sufficient  to  occupy  his  thoughts  and  time, 
supplemented  by  his  easy  access  to  the  old  home, 
while  to  Barbara  the  simple  round  of  household  duties, 
the  charm  of  the  hoary  woods  which  surrounded  her, 
the  walks  over  mountain  and  moor,  sometimes  varied 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  31 

by  rambles  on  the  wild  seashore  that  lay  beyond  that 
furze-covered  knoll,  so  filled  her  life  with  pure  and 
simple  pleasures  that  she  never  pined  for  a  wider  circle 
of  acquaintance,  nor  for  the  gaieties  and  frivolities  of 
the  world,  of  which  she  knew  nothing;  and  besides  all 
these,  there  was  the  well-filled  library  which  her  grand- 
father had  bequeathed  to  her  in  his  will,  with  the  re- 
quest that  it  should  not  be  sold  unless  absolutely  nec- 
essary. 

As  we  have  seen,  however,  there  were  moments  when 
a  chance  word  or  event  would  arouse  the  pride  which 
was  undoubtedly  too  strong  an  element  in  her  char- 
acter, when  the  tide  of  discontent  and  bitter  regrets 
swept  across  the  placid  lake  of  her  existence ;  but  these 
feelings  were  only  momentary,  and  were  quickly  ban- 
ished by  her  commonsense.  Fortunately  for  her,  she 
had  a  well-balanced  mind ;  in  fact,  Barbara  Owen  was 
just  a  happy,  simple  Welslj  girl,  naturally  refined, 
and  tolerably  well  educated. 

With  pathetic  humility  and  self-reproach  she  and 
Tom  waited  and  watched  beside  their  mother's  couch, 
but  Peggy  Jerry,  who  generally  managed  not  to  be 
seen  beyond  the  precincts  of  the  kitchen,  had,  unin- 
vited, installed  herself  as  chief  nurse,  having  donned 
a  white  apron  for  the  occasion ;  and  continued  to  wear 
an  offended  and  reproving  look,  as  if  to  remind  the 
young  people  that  she  did  not  yet  exonerate  them  from 
blame;  but  they,  with  an  indulgent  smile,  forgave 
her  air  of  reproach  in  consideration  of  her  devotion  to 
them  all;  for  well  they  knew  that  in  Peggy  Jerry's 
faithful  heart,  her  mistress,  and  her  mistress's  son  and 
daughter  were  her  god,  and  their  service  was  her  re- 
ligion. 


CHAPTER    III 

IT  was  close  upon  the  stroke  of  midnight  by  the  little 
clock  on  the  mantelpiece  in  Mrs.  Owen's  bedroom,  and 
to  Barbara  watching  beside  the  old-fashioned  bed  it 
seemed  as  if  the  hour  of  doom  were  about  to  strike, 
for  a  heavy  foreboding  had  fallen  upon  her  heart. 

The  weather  had  changed,  and  the  wind  blowing  up 
from  the  south  sighed  and  whispered  in  the  fir  wood  at 
the  back  of  the  house,  while  occasional  drops  of  rain 
tapped  threateningly  against  the  casement,  and  the 
doors  and  windows  shook  in  their  frames  a  little.  A 
small  fire  burned  in  the  grate.  Tom,  sitting  beside  it, 
had  fallen  into  a  doze.  Barbara  felt  alone  in  the  world, 
and  full  of  strange  and  mysterious  fears.  Pegigy 
Jerry,  who  was  sitting  through  the  night  at  the  kitchen 
fire,  came  occasionally  in  her  stockinged  feet  to  look 
in  at  the  doorway,  and  retired  again  as  silently  as  a 
ghost. 

They  had  carried  the  invalid  gently  up  the  stairs, 
and  laid  her  on  her  own  bed,  where  she  had  remained 
quietly,  apparently  sleeping ;  but  when  hour  after  hour 
went  by,  and  there  was  no  change  in  her  position  or 
appearance,  Barbara  had  grown  uneasy,  had  listened 
to  the  fluttering  breath,  watched  the  flushed  face 
closely,  and  had  seen  there  evidently  something  that 
had  alarmed  her,  for  she  rose,  and  crossing  the  hearth, 
laid  her  hand  gently  on  Tom's  sleeve.  She  had  thought 
he  was  asleep,  but  she  was  mistaken,  and  was  rather 
startled  when  he  opened  his  eyes  naturally. 

32 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  33 

"What  is  it,  Barbara?"  he  whispered,  but  she  an- 
swered him  in  her  usual  tone  of  voice. 

"  You  need  not  whisper,  Tom ;  she  does  not  hear. 
Oh,  I  know  there  is  something  wrong  with  her.  Come 
and  see  for  yourself." 

"  Nonsense ! "  said  Tom  irritably,  for  the  oppress- 
ive silence  of  the  room  had  told  upon  his  nerves. 
"  What  can  be  better  for  her  than  rest  and  sleep?  " 

"But  she's  having  neither,"  said  Barbara,  and  to- 
gether they  bent  over  the  silent  form  on  the  bed.  The 
cheeks  were  very  flushed,  and  the  eyes  half  closed, 
there  was  a  little  restless  working  of  the  mouth  and 
forehead,  enough  to  show  that  hers  was  not  a  sleep  of 
rest  and  recuperation,  and  a  faint  moan  sometimes 
issued  from  the  lips. 

Every  now  and  then  Tom  walked  up  to  the  bed, 
and  after  gazing  a  moment,  silently  returned  to  his 
chair  with  a  muttered  "  Darling  mother ! "  and  hiding 
his  eyes  with  his  hand.  Peggy  came  in,  and  gazed 
silently  too,  turning  away  with  a  shake  of  her  head, 
and  with  her  apron  to  her  eyes.  Barbara  took  her 
seat  again  on  the  low  stool,  where  she  could  lay  her 
cheek  on  her  mother's  burning  hand,  and  dry  her  slow 
dropping  tears,  unseen  by  Tom. 

The  time  passed  slowly  on,  the  little  clock  ticked, 
and  the  fire  crackled  in  the  grate.  One  o'clock 
struck,  and  Mrs.  Owen  became  more  restless,  her  limbs 
twitching  a  little,  and  the  moaning  growing  more  fre- 
quent. 

Two  o'clock!  and  the  whole  world  seemed  waiting, 
so  Barbara  thought,  though  for  what  she  could  not 
tell.  She  rose  aimlessly,  and  drawing  the  curtains, 
looked  out  at  the  night  sky,  over  which  a  heavy  cloud 
was  passing,  and  the  rain  pattered  on  the  pane. 


34  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

Suddenly  her  courage  seemed  to  give  way,  and  slip- 
ping down  to  the  ground  she  rested  her  head  upon 
Tom's  knee,  and  sobbed  bitterly,  while  he,  helpless  and 
miserable,  drew  his  hand  over  his  tumbled  hair;  but 
for  a  few  moments  only,  then  she  was  up  again,  and 
ready  to  dare  or  to  bear  anything  for  the  beloved  one. 

"  There !  I  am  better  now,  Tom,  Tom,  no  more 
tears ;  we  must  send  for  Dr.  Rees.  Who  will  go  ?  " 

"Why,  I,  of  course,"  said  Tom,  and  in  less  than 
five  minutes  he  had  gone  out  at  the  front  door.  Once 
in  the  night  air  he  breathed  more  freely,  and  hurrying 
down  the  drive  he  saw  that  heavy  clouds  were  gather- 
ing in  the  sky,  but  from  between  them  the  brilliant 
stars  shone  down  upon  him,  and  the  solemnity  and 
majesty  of  the  night  sky  appealed  to  the  soul  of  the 
careless  youth  as  nothing  had  ever  done  before.  A 
sudden  halt  had  been  called  in  his  headlong  thought- 
less career,  a  call  that  touched  him  home  deeper  than 
anything  else  could  have  done,  for  Tom's  love  for  his 
mother  was  the  keynote  of  his  life.  "  Surely,"  he 
thought,  as  he  caught  sight  of  the  glittering  stars, 
"  there  is  a  power  beyond  those  shining  orbs  that  keeps 
them  in  their  path,  unmoved  by  the  heavy  clouds  that 
pass  before  them.  Surely  that  Power  will  guard  my 
angel  mother  from  harm ! "  And  the  thought  brought 
comfort  to  him  as  he  hastened  on  his  way.  "  'Tis 
nothing  but  our  nervousness,"  he  thought ;  "  a  simple 
fall  and  a  scratch  like  that  cannot  have  any  serious 
consequences.  Barbara  and  I  are  both  silly  fools! 
Dr.  Rees  won't  thank  me  for  calling  him  up  at  this 
hour  of  the  night,  but  I  don't  care  a  button  for  that ! 
Dear  mother  is  not  all  right,  so  he's  got  to  come." 

He  hurried  down  past  the  mill,  and  crossing  the  stile 
into  the  wood,  took  the  short  cut  into  the  town.  Llyn 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  35 

Dystaw  looked  black  as  ink  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees, 
and  as  he  skirted  its  sombre  brink  its  loneliness  im- 
pressed him  more  than  usual,  and  he  was  not  sorry 
when  he  reached  the  turning,  at  which  point  the  path 
led  away  from  the  dark  wood.  He  had  taken  but  a 
few  steps  in  the  other  direction,  however,  before  he 
was  aware  of  some  movement  in  the  tangled  brake  be- 
hind him,  and  looking  back  he  was  surprised  to  see 
a  woman  emerge  from  the  brushwood,  at  the  curve  of 
the  path  which  he  had  just  left.  "Essylt!  I'll 
swear,"  he  said  to  himself.  "Two  minutes  earlier  she 
would  have  met  me  at  the  corner;  another  of  her  mys- 
terious ways,"  and  he  quickened  his  steps,  wondering 
what  could  have  taken  the  girl  out  at  such  an  hour, 
and  what  could  have  attracted  her  to  the  densest, 
gloomiest  part  of  the  wood. 

For  a  few  moments  he  puzzled  over  the  incident,  but 
the  necessity  for  hurrying  on,  and  the  events  which 
followed  at  Caefran,  soon  banished  the  thought  of 
Essylt  and  her  ways  from  his  mind. 

He  ran  the  latter  part  of  the  way,  every  moment 
seeming  to  bring  some  impending  danger  nearer  to 
him.  A  ring  of  the  bell  at  Dr.  Rees's  door  brought 
him  to  the  window. 

"Who  is  it?  What?  You,  Tom?  Good  Lord! 
What's  the  matter?" 

"  My  mother,  sir,  she's  not  so  well  as  she  was,  and 
Barbara  is  getting  frightened.  Do  come  up." 

"  Mrs.  Owen  worse  ?  Twt ,  twt!  'tis  your  fancy ; 
but  I'll  come  at  once,  Tom;  go  you  on,  my  boy,  and 
I'll  pick  you  up  on  the  road." 

Tom  waited  until  he  heard  the  doctor's  footsteps  on 
the  stairs,  and  a  call  at  the  back  door  for  Sam,  then 
he  turned  away,  and  walked  so  rapidly  homewards 


36  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

that  he  had  reached  the  old  mill  before  Dr.  Rees 
caught  him  up. 

The  rain  was  beginning  to  fall  heavily,  the  stars 
were  hidden,  and  the  wind  moaned  in  the  trees. 

"Stormy  night,  Tom!  Who'd  have  expected  it?  w 
said  the  doctor  as  he  passed. 

"No,  indeed,"  Tom  called  after  him.  "I'll  be 
there  nearly  as  soon  as  you,"  and  vaulting  a  stile,  he 
ran  across  a  field,  and  up  the  sloping  park-land  which 
the  drive  skirted. 

Lights  were  hurrying  to  and  fro  in  the  house  when 
they  arrived.  Peggy  Jerry  met  them  in  the  hall 
wringing  her  hands. 

"Oh!  come  on,  come  on!"  she  cried,  indignant  at 
the  deliberate  manner  in  which  the  doctor  divested 
himself  of  his  great-coat,  and  almost  dragging  him 
up  the  stairs.  But  when  he  reached  the  landing  he 
heard  a  sound  in  the  bedroom  which  hastened  his  steps 
into  a  run — Barbara's  voice,  in  tones  of  tender  pity; 
a  groan — a  shriek  of  agony. 

He  entered  the  room  with  Peggy,  Tom  followed 
closely. 

We  must  close  the  door  and  leave  them,  for  we  are 
not  called  upon  to  watch  that  scene  of  agony ;  we  may 
put  aside  from  us  the  thought  of  it  if  we  can ;  no  duty 
compels  us  to  stand  beside  that  bed  of  suffering,  to 
see  the  tender  frame  that  we  have  loved  so  fondly 
writhing  in  pain.  Let  us  banish  the  thought  of  it, 
if  we  can,  as  we  close  the  door,  and  leave  it  to  that 
boy  and  girl  to  bear.  It  is  their  baptism  of  sorrow, 
their  first  personal  experience  of  suffering,  the  inevi- 
table, destiny  of  humanity. 

After  all,  it  was  only  half  an  hour  before  Tom 
opened  the  door,  and  crossed  the  passage  into  his  own 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  37 

room.  He  had  borne  it  all  unflinchingly,  but  the  ter- 
rible ordeal  had  completely  unnerved  him,  and  he 
bolted  himself  in  to  hide  the  burst  of  tears  that  he 
could  no  longer  restrain,  while,  in  the  sick-room  the 
frail  form  upon  the  bed,  worn  and  spent  with  pain, 
had  fallen  into  a  quiet  sleep.  Barbara,  though  with 
trembling  hands,  had  carried  out  the  doctor's  direc- 
tions to  his  wondering  satisfaction. 

After  that  tempestuous  half-hour  of  suffering  a 
dead  silence  had  fallen  upon  the  sick-room.  Dr.  Rees, 
looking  much  harassed,  sat  in  the  arm-chair  on  the 
hearth,  Peggy  alone  moving  about  shoeless  and  noise- 
less, and  so  they  watched  through  the  long  hours. 

Barbara,  sitting  on  the  low  stool  once  more,  and 
listening  to  the  mysterious  "  voices  of  the  night "  that 
reached  her  through  the  open  window,  the  wind  in  the 
trees,  the  rushing  of  the  rain,  felt  as  though  she  were 
someone  other  than  herself.  Surely  it  was  not  she, 
Barbara  Owen,  who  had  this  night  lived  through  an 
experience  more  bitter  than  anything  she  had  ever 
dreamed  of?  Was  it  she,  Barbara  Owen,  who  was 
listening  with  dry  eyes  to  the  melancholy  sounds  that 
came  in  on  the  night  breeze,  and  with  a  courage  she 
had  never  known  she  possessed?  Yes,  it  was  Bar- 
bara, the  real  Barbara,  forgetful  of  self,  strung  up 
to  the  highest  tension  of  endurance,  asking  only  that 
she  might  help  the  beloved  one.  And  while  the  hours 
passed  on  in  silence,  while  Dr.  Rees  dozed  and  Peggy 
rocked  herself  backwards  and  forwards,  with  her  arms 
folded  up  in  her  apron,  and  Tom  lay  worn  out  upon 
his  bed,  the  continual  cry  of  the  girl's  heart  was,  "  Oh, 
mother,  mother  darling!  so  happy  we  were,  Tom,  and 
you,  and  I,  we  three  together!  Oh,  God!  let  it  be  so 
again,  Tom,  and  mother,  and  I  together."  And  when 


38  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

the  pale  dawn  began  to  show  how  the  branches  were 
swaying,  and  the  clouds  flying  by,  when  the  rain 
ceased,  and  the  wind  grew  fresher  and  milder,  she  rose, 
and  closed  the  window. 

The  invalid  still  slept  peacefully,  and  Peggy,  going 
quietly  out,  returned  with  a  tray  of  tea  and  bread  and 
butter.  She  had  knocked  at  Tom's  door,  and  he  had 
instantly  answered  the  summons. 

"Is  she  worse?"  he  asked  in  a  whisper. 

"  No,  better — she's  sleeping  quiet." 

*'  Thank  God ! "  he  said  reverently,  and  followed 
her  into  the  bedroom.  Barbara  and  he  never  forgot 
that  meal,  it  was  always  a  landmark  in  their  lives, 
for,  with  the  cessation  of  immediate  danger,  hope 
sprang  up  in  their  young  hearts. 

When  the  little  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  struck 
eight,  Mrs.  Owen  opened  her  eyes,  and  in  a  moment 
her  children  were  with  her,  and  Dr.  Rees  was  ready 
with  the  restorative,  which  Sam  had  been  sent  for. 

She  held  out  her  hand,  and  Tom  and  Barbara 
clasped  it  between  their  own.  "  Mother,  darling " 
was  all  they  said,  and  she  whispered  only,  "  Dear  chil- 
dren " — simple  words,  but  how  much  they  expressed  to 
these  three,  whose  souls  were  so  closely  entwined!  The 
voice  was  very  weak  and  trembling,  and  the  doctor 
held  up  his  finger  admonishingly. 

"  Now,  no  talking,"  he  said ;  "  you  want  perfect 
rest  until  I  return  in  the  afternoon." 

"  Only  this,"  said  Mrs.  Owen.  "  Will  it  come  again 
? — that  terrible  agony  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  'tis  all  over.  A  little  convulsive  twitch- 
ing of  the  nerves.  Think  no  more  about  it.  You'll 
be  all  right  now;  but  remember  my  words — perfect 
quiet  and  rest  are  what  you  want.  Now,  Miss  Bar- 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  39 

bara,  I  can  trust  her  to  you  till  the  afternoon,  then 
I  will  bring  Michael  Lloyd  with  me." 

Barbara  shrank  visibly  from  the  idea.  "  Oh, 
please,  Dr.  Rees,  do  not  do  that.  I  could  not  bear  to 
have  a  stranger  here  at  such  a  time.  I  should  hate 
it."  And  her  sensitive  face  wore  such  evident  signs 
of  vexation,  that  Dr.  Rees,  too  good-natured  to  in- 
sist, gave  in  with  a  good  grace. 

"  Ah,  well,  well !  if  you  rather  not.  But,  indeed, 
d'you  know,  I  think  you're  unwise,  not  that  there  is 
any  occasion,  but  a  second  opinion  is  always  satis- 
factory." 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed,"  said  the  girl ;  "  we  are  quite  sat- 
isfied with  yours;  aren't  we,  Tom?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course,"  said  Tom,  but  with  a  little 
hesitation  in  his  voice.  Not  that  he  doubted  Dr.  Rees, 
but  that  he  had  fallen  under  the  influence  of  Michael 
Lloyd's  strong  personality.  However,  for  the  mo- 
ment they  all  seemed  to  have  put  away  from  them 
every  anxious  care,  and  to  have  banished  it  with  the 
memory  of  the  last  night's  dark  hours. 

The  rain  ceased;  the  wind  went  down;  the  fir 
branches  held  out  a  wealth  of  diamonds  on  their  dainty 
finger-tips;  the  birds  sang  as  if  they  had  been  freed 
from  a  spell,  and  the  old  garden,  as  if  anxious  to  take 
its  part  in  its  loving  greeting  to  the  invalid,  sent  in 
through  the  open  window  a  breeze  laden  with  the  per- 
fume of  the  roses,  the  lilies,  the  violets,  which  she  her- 
self had  tended  so  diligently. 

"  Do  you  smell  the  flowers,  mother  dear? "  said 
Barbara.  "  They  are  all  sending  you  their  loving 
messages.  We  mustn't  talk,  but  we  don't  want  words, 
you,  and  Tom,  and  I,  do  we?  any  more  than  the 
flowers  ?  " 


40  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

The  pale  lips  smiled,  and  an  answering  look  of  love 
came  into  the  eyes  of  the  sufferer,  a  proof,  indeed,  of 
Barbara's  words. 

Peggy  came  forward  too,  with  not  one,  but  a  series 
of  curtseys. 

"  Mestress  vdcJi,  are  you  better?  To  suffer  like 
that,  and  Peggy  Jerry  here  not  able  to  bear  it  for 
you,  ach-y-fi!  there's  a  cruel  thing." 

The  grey  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  Barbara 
thought  it  wise  to  gently  suggest  a  want.  "  A  cup 
of  tea — wouldn't  it  refresh  her  now  ?  "  and  instantly 
Peggy  had  flown  on  the  wings  of  love,  happy  in  the 
solace  of  ministering  to  those  whom  she  had  served 
with  such  unstinting  fidelity. 

As  he  drove  away  from  the  house  Dr.  Rees  indulged 
in  a  few  expletives.  "  The  deuced  pride  of  that  girl ! " 
he  muttered ;  "  you  might  think  she  was  Princess  of 
Wales,  and  she  next  door  to  a  beggar!  If  her  mother 
were  to  die,  she'd  have  to  go  out  and  earn  her  living, 
ach-y-fi!  And  yet  she's  a  sweet,  good  girl,  too,"  he 
thought,  his  kindness  of  heart  getting  the  better  of 
his  indignation,  "  and  brave,  in  my  deed,  she  is." 

When  he  entered  his  surgery  he  found  Michael 
Lloyd  there  waiting  for  news  of  the  Caefran  family, 
for  he  had  been  aroused  in  the  night  to  make  up  the 
soothing  draught  which  Sam  had  been  sent  for. 

"  Never  saw  such  a  girl  as  that  Barbara,"  said  the 
doctor,  when  he  had  described  the  case  to  his  own 
satisfaction,  though  not  to  Michael's ;  "  did  exactly 
what  I  told  her,  you  know.  'Pon  my  word,  if  you'd 
been  there  yourself,  I  don't  think  you  could  have 
helped  me  more,  though  she  was  as  white  as  a  sheet, 
and  her  hands  trembled  as  if  she  had  the  palsy.  Tom, 
poor  boy,  was  no  good  at  all." 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  41 

"But  what  was  it?"  said  Michael. 

"  Oh !  bad  fit  of  convulsions,  never  saw  a  worse. 
She's  a  sensitive  woman,  very  nervous  temperament, 
and  the  suddenness  of  the  fall  was  such  a  shock  that 
it  worked  up  to  this  attack." 

"  But  that  wouldn't  cause  such  terrible  agony !  I 
wish  I  had  gone  with  you,  doctor." 

"  Well,  I  never  thought  there  was  going  to  be  such 
a  scene;  but,  there,  'tis  well  over  now.  She  fell  into 
a  heavy  sleep  at  last.  I  impressed  upon  them  that 
she  must  be  kept  quiet  until  I  see  her  again  this  after- 
noon. I  would  like  you  to  see  her,  but  they  are  queer, 
nervous  people,  you  know,  and  a  stranger  might  upset 
them.  Miss  Barbara  is  a  proud,  reserved  girl." 

Michael  drummed  on  the  table  with  his  fingers,  and 
looked  thoughtfully  over  the  box  tree  outside  the  sur- 
gery window.  He  was  not  thinking  of  himself,  or  of 
Barbara,  or  of  Barbara's  pride;  but  with  a  strong  in- 
stinct of  the  medical  man  he  was  longing  to  satisfy 
himself  as  to  the  truth  of  Dr.  Rees's  diagnosis. 

A  knock  at  the  door  interrupted  them,  and  with  the 
arrival  of  a  fresh  case  the  Caefran  household  passed 
from  their  thoughts. 

Meanwhile,  comparative  peace  had  returned  to  the 
sick-room.  Barbara,  though  pale,  was  brave  and 
calm,  and  Tom's  pleasant  face  had  regained  much  of 
its  usual  cheerfulness ;  for  the  invalid  was  restful,  and 
evidently  free  from  pain,  and  when  Dr.  Rees  came 
again  in  the  afternoon  he  was  well  pleased  with  the 
progress  that  she  had  made.  He  was  deeply  relieved 
too  to  feel  that  he  could  absent  himself  from  his  prac- 
tice in  the  following  week,  according  to  his  original 
intentions,  without  the  disturbing  feeling  that  he  was 
deserting  a  patient  in  need  of  his  services. 


42  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

Mrs.  Owen,  propped  up  by  pillows,  was  sipping 
her  tea  placidly  as  he  entered,  Tom  and  Barbara 
hovering  around  her  with  a  hundred  little  atten- 
tions. 

"Well  done!  well  done!  getting  on  splendidly," 
said  the  doctor.  "  We'll  have  you  down  again  soon, 
and  out  in  the  garden.  Storm  quite  over,  I  think. 
But  now,  remember,  no  more  climbing  up  ladders  to 
hunt  for  birds'  nests,"  and  he  laughed  jovially.  His 
words  seemed  to  recall  to  Mrs.  Owen's  mind  some  dis- 
tressing thought,  for  a  look  of  terror  passed  over  her 
face,  and  she  covered  her  eyes  with  her  hand,  as  if  to 
shut  out  some  unwelcome  sight. 

"  Never  again !  oh,  say  it  will  never  be  again — that 
terrible  pain.  I  would  rather  die." 

"Ah,  well,  well!"  said  Dr.  Rees,  "don't  be  in  a 
hurry  about  that;  you're  getting  well  rapidly;  lots  of 
work  before  you  yet,  with  earthy  hands  and  trowel 
amongst  your  flowers,  you  know." 

Barbara,  who  had  paled  a  little,  bent  over  her 
mother  with  words  of  tender  reassurance.  "  Think  no 
more  of  it,  dear,"  she  cooed,  "  'tis  all  over  now,  and 
you  will  soon  be  well." 

When  Dr.  Rees  rose  to  go,  she  followed  him  down- 
stairs. 

"  You  will  come  to-morrow  early,  though  she  is  bet- 
ter," she  said,  and  as  he  deliberated  for  a  moment, 
"Oh,  do  come,"  she  pleaded. 

"  Afraid  I  can't  to-morrow,"  he  said.  "  I  am  called 
to  Rhydalban  to  a  very  serious  case,  so  you  had  bet- 
ter get  over  your  fear  of  Michael  Lloyd." 

"  Fear ! "  exclaimed  Barbara,  drawing  herself  up 
proudly. 

"Well,  he  will  come  to-morrow,  but  if  Mrs.  Owen 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  43 

objects  to  seeing  him,  you  can  tell  him  so;  he  won't 
mind,  he's  used  to  invalids'  whims,  you  know." 

She  clasped  her  fingers  nervously.  "  I  suppose  it 
must  be,"  she  said.  "  Dear  mother  won't  object, 
neither  will  Tom;  it  is  I  who  hate — strangers;  and 
you  will  be  home  next  day  ?  " 

"  Oh,  of  course,  of  course,"  and  Dr.  Rees  drove 
away,  once  more  anathematising  Miss  Barbara's 
pride.  No  one  else  in  the  neighbourhood  had  made 
any  objection  to  accepting  Michael  Lloyd  as  his  sub- 
stitute; even  Lady  Gwyn  Morlais,  generally  so  ex- 
clusive, having  heard  her  cousin,  a  London  physician, 
speak  in  very  high  terms  of  the  young  man's  reputa- 
tion, had  declared  herself  more  than  satisfied.  "  Philip 
Lloyd's  son,  you  say?  Dear  me!  the  old  man  must 
be  proud  of  him.  I  hope  you  will  soon  introduce  him 
to  us."  Barbara  alone  had  shown  any  disinclination  to 
receive  him ;  "  and  what  does  that  matter,"  thought 
Dr.  Rees,  "  a  chit  of  a  girl  with  her  chin  in  the  air, 
and  as  poor  as  a  church  mouse;  but  I  am  very  fond 
of  her — nice  child  " — with  a  ruminating  shake  of  his 
head.  "  How  proud  of  her  poor  Parry  Owen  would 
have  been  if  he  had  lived." 

Sam  was  quite  used  to  his  master's  muttered  re- 
marks, and  paid  no  more  heed  to  them  than  he  did  to 
the  wind  which  whistled  over  the  moors. 

On  the  next  afternoon,  when  Barbara  had  stolen  a 
moment  from  her  attendance  on  the  invalid  to  run 
down  to  the  dining-room  to  water  the  flowers,  she 
heard  the  crunch  of  wheels  at  the  door,  and  immedi- 
ately afterwards  a  startled  greeting  from  Peggy, 
though  spoken  in  a  low  voice,  to  impress  upon  the  vis- 
itor the  importance  which  she  attached  to  his  intro- 
duction to  the  Caefran  household. 


44  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

"  Howyr  bach! "  she  exclaimed.  "  Dr.  Rees  from 
home,  and  you  coming  in  his  stead,  machgen-i! " 

"  Why,  Peggy,"  said  Michael  in  good  broad  Welsh, 
"  thou  art  everywhere ;  if  I  went  to  the  moon,  I  should 
find  thee  there,  I  think." 

"  Well,  everybody  knows  I  am  generally  here,  what- 
ever," said  Peggy  proudly. 

"Oh,  of  course,  but  I'd  forgotten.  Where's  Miss 
Owen?  I  want  to  see  her."  And  Peggy,  slipping 
off  her  shoes,  approached  a  closed  door  and  knocked 
humbly. 

"Come  in,"  said  a  clear  girlish  voice  within,  and 
Michael  himself  opened  the  door  wide,  leaving  Peggy 
rather  shocked  at  his  boldness. 

Barbara,  who  had  forgotten,  if  she  had  ever  heard 
what  Michael  Lloyd  was  like,  was  rather  astonished 
when  she  saw  the  man  who  had  just  entered.  It  would 
not  have  surprised  her  to  see  one  of  the  usual  type  of 
Welsh  peasant-student,  that  grasps  so  eagerly  at  the 
chance  of  learning,  and  makes  such  rapid  strides  in 
its  pursuit,  stunted  in  growth  by  hard  work  and  pri- 
vation endured  in  early  youth,  a  dark  studious  face, 
a  broad  brow,  and  shoulders  a  little  stooping  from 
much  poring  over  books ;  a  slight  halting  in  the  utter- 
ance of  the  English  tongue;  a  little  natural  humility 
in  the  address.  But  how  different  was  the  man  cross- 
ing the  room  towards  her!  Straight  and  tall,  broad- 
shouldered  and  breezy  in  appearance,  with  perfect  ease 
of  manner,  as  though  utterly  unconscious  of  any  dif- 
ference between  his  social  position  and  that  of  the  girl 
whom  he  was  addressing;  still  more  entirely  free  from 
the  aggressive  familiarity  with  which  a  man  or  woman 
of  inferior  education  often  attempts  to  bridge  over  the 
gulf  which  separates  him  from  those  more  highly  cul- 
tured than  himself. 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  45 

"How  d'you  do,  Miss  Owen?  Let  me  introduce 
myself.  I  am  Michael  Lloyd.  I  suppose  Dr.  Rees 
has  prepared  you  for  this  sudden  visit.  I  am  ex- 
tremely sorry  for  the  occasion  of  it." 

Barbara  drew  herself  up  and  bowed  coldly.  "  Yes," 
she  said.  "  He  told  me  you  would  probably  call  to- 
day instead  of  him,  but  my  mother  is  so  much  better 
that  I  don't  think  there  will  be  any  necessity  for  you 
to  see  her." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that,"  said  Michael  Lloyd, 
"  and  if  you  think  she  would  rather  not  see  me,  of 
course  I  would  not  for  the  world  press  her  to  do  so; 
an  invalid's  wishes  should  be  strong  people's  laws,  gen- 
erally speaking;  but "  and  once  more,  as  he  had 

done  in  the  surgery,  he  looked  thoughtfully  out  into 
the  beautifulr  old-fashioned  garden,  on  which  the  win- 
dow opened.  "  Dr.  Rees  has,  of  course,  described  the 
case  to  me,"  he  added,  turning  suddenly  towards  Bar- 
bara, as  if  he  had  for  the  moment  forgotten  her  pres- 
ence— which,  indeed,  he  had  entirely — "but  without 
seeing  the  patient  and  the  wound,  I  can,  of  course, 
form  no  opinion  of  the  case." 

"  Oh,  the  wound  is  healing  quite  nicely,"  said  Bar- 
bara, "  and  she  is  ever  so  much  better  to-day,"  and 
to  Michael  it  was  very  evident  that  Miss  Barbara 
Owen  did  not  intend  that  he  should  see  the  patient, 
so  he  adroitly  turned  the  conversation  to  other  sub- 
jects before  he  rose  to  take  his  leave — the  beautiful 
garden,  the  prospect  of  more  fine  weather,  although 
it  was  still  showery,  the  prevalence  of  influenza  in  the 
neighbourhood — to  all  of  which  remarks  Barbara 
vouchsafed  the  shortest  and  driest  answers  possible. 

"Well,"  said  Michael,  with  his  hand  on  the  handle 
of  the  door,  "  Dr.  Rees  will  be  very  glad  to  hear  such 
a  good  account  of  Mrs.  Owen ;  he  will  be  up  to-mor- 


46  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

row  about  eleven.  Good-bye,"  and  she  heard  his  firm 
step  in  the  hall,  while  the  blood  rushed  to  her  head, 
and  she  clasped  her  hands  in  excitement. 

"Oh,  what  if  he  could  do  mother  some  good,  while 
I  have  dismissed  him  so  abruptly ! "  was  her  thought, 
and  in  a  second  she  was  in  the  hall,  where  Michael 
Lloyd  stopped,  surprised  at  her  flurried  air. 

"  It  has  just  struck  me,"  she  said,  "  that  perhaps 
mother  would  like  to  see  you.  Could  you  wait  one  mo- 
ment while  I  ask?  "  and  she  flew  up  the  stairs,  Michael 
looking  after  her  with  an  amused  smile. 

"  It's  the  new  doctor,  mother  dear !  "  she  exclaimed, 
"  come  instead  of  Dr.  Rees,  and  I  have  told  him  you 
are  so  much  better  that  he  need  not  come  up.  Was 
that  right?" 

"  Well,  I  should  like  to  have  seen  him,"  said  Mrs. 
Owen  in  a  weak  voice,  that  sent  Barbara  flying  down 
the  stairs  again,  forgetting  everything  but  her  strong 
love  for  her  mother. 

"  Yes,  she  would  like  to  see  you,  please,"  she  said. 
"  I  am  so  glad  it's  not  too  late."  In  her  eagerness 
she  smiled,  and  Michael  saw  how  beautiful  she  could 
be;  but  in  a  moment  he  too  had  forgotten  everything 
in  his  interest  in  the  case  which  had  struck  him  as 
being  rather  mysterious,  judging  by  Dr.  Rees's  diag- 
nosis. 

As  he  approached  the  invalid  she  looked  at  him 
with  one  swift  glance  of  nervousness,  which  was  suc- 
ceeded almost  instantly  by  a  look  of  pleased  confi- 
dence, for  Michael  Lloyd  was  holding  her  hot  hand 
in  his  own  cool,  strong  palm,  and  speaking  to  her  in  a 
quiet,  though  cheerful,  tone  of  voice. 

"Well,"  he  said.  "It  is  good  news  that  you  are 
getting  over  your  fall  so  quickly.  Dr.  Rees  has  been 


UNDER    THE     THATCH  47 

telling  me  all  about  it.  People  who  go  out  birds'- 
nesting  must  expect  a  fall  sometimes,"  and  he  laughed 
pleasantly,  and  Barbara  was  delighted  to  hear  her 
mother  laugh  too.  Her  own  manner  was  still  strained 
and  reserved,  but  the  ice  melted  a  little  as  she  observed 
how  the  invalid  seemed  to  gain  strength  from  Mi- 
chael's presence,  from  the  influence  of  his  genial  per- 
sonality, and  from  the  charm  of  his  manner. 

Familiar  as  he  was  with  all  current  events  of  the 
day,  it  was  no  wonder  that  by  both  mother  and  daugh- 
ter, so  long  denied  the  pleasure  of  congenial  society, 
the  charm  of  this  man's  presence  should  be  felt ;  a  man 
who  seemed  to  have  seen  everything,  and  to  have  been 
in  touch  with  people  and  events,  of  whose  existence 
they  had  only  learnt  through  a  paragraph  in  a  news- 
paper, and  yet  who  knew  the  cottage  children  by 
name,  and  the  flowers  that  grew  in  field,  or  bog,  or 
wood,  so  that  nearly  an  hour  had  passed  before  Bar- 
bara, with  a  little  start,  pulled  herself  together,  and 
recalled  her  proud  reserve. 

But  while  he  had  chatted  so  pleasantly,  Michael 
had  also  been  keenly  observant  'of  the  hot  hands,  the 
puckered  eyebrows,  the  feverish  glitter  of  the  eyes — 
nothing  had  escaped  him.  "Well,"  he  said,  rising  at 
last,  "  you  are  making  very  good  progress,  and  that 
4  scratch,'  as  Dr.  Rees  calls  it,  is  healing  marvellously. 
He  will  soon  find  you  downstairs,  and  out  in  the  gar- 
den. I  dare  say  you  have  a  light  couch  that  can 
easily  be  carried  there." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Barbara ;  "  but  surely  mother  will 
be  able  to  walk  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear,  yes,  as  soon  as  Dr.  Rees  gives  permis- 
sion. I  should  wait  for  that,  I  think.  I  am  very 
glad  you  let  me  see  you.  I  shall  not  be  quite  in  the 


48  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

dark  now,  if  you  should  happen  to  want  me  again. 
Good-bye,"  and  once  more  he  held  the  invalid's  frail 
hand  in  his  strong  palm. 

"  I  hope  you  will  come  and  see  me  again,"  said  Mrs. 
Owen.  "  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but  I  feel  stronger 
when  you  are  with  me." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,"  said  Michael.  "  I  wish  I 
could  pass  on  a  little  of  my  rude  health  to  you." 

This  time  Barbara  did  not  refuse  her  hand,  though 
it  was  only  a  cold  and  formal  "  Good-bye  "  which  she 
accorded  him  as  he  left  the  room. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  thought  Michael,  as  he  went 
down  the  stairs,  "  that  little  icicle  would  freeze  a  fur- 
nace, but  I  am  greatly  mistaken  if  there  is  not  a  store 
of  fire  behind  that  hard,  proud  manner."  And  as  he 
drove  away  his  musings  also,  like  Dr.  Rees's,  had  ref- 
erence to  Barbara.  "  Poor  girl,  poor  girl ! "  he  said 
in  a  tone  of  pity,  which  was  reflected  in  his  face  as  he 
went  on  his  rounds. 


CHAPTER   IV 

IT  was  midnight,  and  the  Meivon  woods  looked  black 
and  frowning  under  the  driving  clouds  which  alter- 
nately hid  and  disclosed  the  face  of  the  moon. 

When  fhe  sky  was  at  its  darkest,  and  slow  drops  of 
rain  were  beginning  to  fall,  a  girl  stepped  over  the 
stile  that  opened  from  the  road  into  the  woodland  path 
leading  to  Llyn  Dystaw.  The  darkness  made  no  dif- 
ference to  her,  for  she  knew  every  step  of  the  way; 
she  had  played  there  in  childhood,  had  roamed  there 
with  her  young  companions  in  search  of  nuts  or  black- 
berries ;  she  had  often  gone  there  also  to  look  for  the 
mill  turkeys  that  loved  to  stray  under  the  trees  to 
feed  on  the  acorns  with  which  the  ground  was  strewn ; 
so  that  Essylt,  for  it  was  she  who  thus  braved  the 
threatening  storm,  was  familiar  with  every  glade  of 
the  forest,  that  is  to  say,  on  the  right  of  the  silent 
tarn,  for  towards  the  left,  across  its  dark  bosom  the 
tangled  growth  of  underwood  and  scrub  presented  no 
inducement  to  make  a  closer  acquaintance  with  its  sur- 
roundings. The  children  were  daunted  by  its  dark 
shadows,  its  legends  of  otters  and  wild  cats,  and  their 
elders  cared  not  to  push  their  way  through  the  bram- 
bles and  thickets,  when  the  ill-defined  paths  led  to  noth- 
ing in  particular,  except  the  further  recesses  of  the 
wood. 

Not  so  the  girl  who  was  coming  through  the  wood 
where  we  saw  her  walking  with  Michael  Lloyd  a  week 
ago.  As  the  heavy  drops  grew  more  frequent  she 
drew  her  shawl  over  her  head,  but  further  than  that 

49 


50  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

took  no  notice  of  the  threatening  storm.  Leaving  the 
path  at  the  curve  of  the  lake,  she  turned  towards  an- 
other which  led  at  once  into  the  thick  undergrowth 
where  she  was  safe  at  least  from  wind  and  rain. 

Heedless  of  the  scrub  that  obstructed  her  steps,  of 
the  brambles  that  tore  at  her  shawl,  she  pushed  reso- 
lutely forward,  and  before  long,  leaving  the  belt  of 
underwood  behind  her,  was  treading  a  soft  carpet  of 
pine  needles,  where  only  an  occasional  drop  of  rain 
pattered  down  through  the  thick  branches  overhead. 

A  girl  of  more  imaginative  temperament  would  have 
started  a  hundred  times  at  the  mysterious  sounds 
which  broke  the  silence  of  the  wood — would  have 
asked,  "  Is  that  the  wind?"  when  a  low  whisper  came 
up  the  glade.  "  Is  that  the  rain  hissing  down  the  val- 
ley? Is  that  the  cry  of  some  creature  in  pain?  or  is 
it  the  creaking  of  the  pine  branches  ? "  Oh,  yes,  the 
air  was  full  of  strange  sounds  to-night,  for  the  sea 
was  not  far  off,  and  there  was  a  heavy  recurrent  boom 
which  told  of  the  swelling  tide  that  the  south  wind 
was  driving  against  the  cliffs — there  was  the  whistle 
of  the  wind  over  the  distant  moors,  and  the  trickle  of 
the  stream  that  ran  into  Llyn  Dystaw,  and  sank  there 
into  some  underground  channel,  in  search,  perhaps,  of 
the  gallant  horseman  who  had  loved  and  then  ridden 
away. 

But  Essylt  heard  none  of  these  things,  or  if  she  did, 
they  made  no  impression  upon  her,  for  she  was  utterly 
without  sentiment,  and  therefore  without  fear,  and 
perhaps  without  hope,  for  these  two  emotions  are  not 
far  removed  from  each  other,  and  the  heart  that  sinks 
into  the  lowest  depths  of  despondency  in  its  hours  of 
gloom  is  the  one  that  in  its  hour  of  elation  soars  high' 
est  on  the  wings  of  hope. 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  51 

Neither  of  these  extremes  ever  touched  Essylt,  how- 
ever, and  to-night  she  was  only  conscious  of  a  strong 
desire  to  reach  the  end  of  her  journey  before  the  storm 
came  on.  Familiar  with  the  windings  of  the  forest, 
she  hurried  over  the  soft  brown  carpet.  After  half  an 
hour's  walk  she  came  upon  a  more  defined  path,  and 
was  rapidly  making  her  way  through  an  oak  wood  to 
which  the  pines  had  given  place.  She  drew  her  shawl 
more  closely  around  her  as  she  reached  a  little  open 
space,  before  a  solitary  thatched  cottage — a  wood- 
man's cot,  evidently,  for  there  stood  the  glaive,  the 
bill-hook,  and  the  saw;  here  were  the  logs,  and  the 
branches  stacked  on  one  side  of  the  green ;  on  the  other 
a  large  wood-shed  loomed  in  the  darkness ;  there  was 
a  glimmer  of  light  in  the  window,  and  Essylt  raised 
the  thumb  latch  without  knocking;  but  that  was  un- 
necessary, for  a  loud  barking  had  already  announced 
her  arrival.  A  word  of  command  from  a  pleasant 
voice  silenced  the  dog  at  once,  and  the  girl  entered 
upon  a  scene  of  homely  comfort,  which  should  have 
chased  away  the  look  of  unrest  that  marked  her  face. 

A  bright  fire  of  wood  burned  in  the  grate;  before  it 
an  old  plaid  shawl  had  been  spread,  upon  which  a 
large  sheep  dog  lay  curled;  within  the  curve  of  his 
paws  and  bushy  tail  sat  a  baby,  who,  having  been  rest- 
less in  his  cot,  had  been  taken  up  by  the  indulgent 
mother  and  placed  in  Tango's  care.  Here  it  cooed 
and  laughed,  and  spluttered  and  spread  out  its  little 
pink  toes  in  the  blaze  of  the  fire,  as  though  it  were 
midday  instead  of  a  good  hour  after  midnight,  and 
Tango,  feeling  the  responsibility  of  his  charge,  had 
not  risen  to  his  feet,  but  was  satisfied  to  bark  from 
the  hearth,  and  to  say  as  plainly  as  a  growl  could 
speak,  "  Remember,  the  baby  is  in  my  care !  " 


52  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  Come  in,  merch-i,"  said  the  buxom  mother,  rising 
from  her  stool.  "  Dear  anwl!  what  a  sudden  storm !  " 
and  she  took  Essylt's  shawl  and  shook  off  the  rain- 
drops before  she  placed  it  over  the  settle  to  dry. 

"  Bensha  is  carting  the  fagots  to  Penarberth  to- 
day." 

"Is  he  sleeping  there?"  said  Essylt. 

"No;  there  is  a  farm  about  five  miles  from  here 
where  my  cousin  is  living;  he's  stopping  there  to- 
night. 

"  See  the  baby !  "  she  said,  pointing  with  a  smile 
to  the  pretty  picture  before  the  fire.  "  He  missed  me 
from  bed,  and  wouldn't  rest  any  longer,  so  I  brought 
him  here,  for  I  knew  you  wouldn't  be  long,  merch-i." 

"No,"  said  Essylt,  with  a  weary  look  in  her  face. 
"Aren't  you  afraid  the  dog  will  bite  him?  " 

"Tango  bite  the  'bapa'?     dear  anwl,  no!" 

"Well,  'tis  late,  and  I  have  to  go  back  through  the 
rain.  "  I'll  go  in,"  and  she  pointed  with  her  thumb  to 
a  low  door,  whose  lintel  was  crooked,  and  threshold 
uneven. 

"  Yes,  yes,  go  you  in,"  said  the  woman,  "  he's 
there,"  and  Essylt  pulled  the  string  latch,  and  opened 
the  door,  disclosing  for  a  moment,  before  she  closed  it, 
a  tiny  room,  low  raftered  and  whitewashed;  a  fire  of 
brushwood  threw  a  cheerful  light  over  a  scene  that 
had  nothing  else  to  recommend  it;  an  old  worm-eaten 
table  stood  against  the  window,  on  which  a  candle 
flared  in  a  tin  candle-stick.  Before  it  sat  an  old  man 
with  bent  shoulders,  who  pored  over  a  thick  leather- 
bound  book. 

So  much  was  revealed  in  the  interval  between 
Essylt's  entering  and  closing  the  door,  and  no  more. 

The  woman  and  the  child  carried  on  a  conversation 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  53 

which  was  evidently  interesting  to  both,  Tango  some- 
times interpolating  a  remark  when  the  little  one 
clutched  at  his  hair  too  tightly,  or  pulled  his  ears  too 
hard. 

Mary  Lewis  laughed  in  the  fulness  of  her  happiness, 
and  the  baby  showed  its  two  teeth  with  ravishing  ef- 
fect. It  was  too  much  for  Mary's  feelings,  so  she 
clutched  at  her  child,  and  hugged  it  to  her  heart  be- 
fore restoring  it  to  Tango's  embrace,  exclaiming, 
"  Was  he  mother's  dear  heart,  then  ? "  and  sitting 
down  on  her  stool,  she  flung  a  fresh  fagot  on  her 
fire,  and  while  the  sparks  flew  merrily  up  the  chimney 
she  began  to  sing  an  old  hymn,  whose  weird  and  wail- 
ing notes  did  not  seem  to  depress  the  child;  probably 
it  answered  to  some  call  in  its  Celtic  nature,  for  it 
cooed,  and  bubbled,  and  showed  its  teeth  as  before,  and 
Tango  tapped  the  floor  with  his  tail  approvingly. 

It  was  nearly  an  hour  before  the  latch  of  the  inner 
door  was  raised  and  Essylt  appeared.  She  looked 
pale  and  worn,  and  closed  the  door  absently,  as  if  her 
thoughts  were  occupied  with  some  serious  subject. 

Mary  Lewis  drew  the  dried  shawl  from  the  settle, 
and  wrapped  it  round  the  girl's  shoulders.  "  How 
goes  it,  merch-i,  in  there?  "  she  asked,  with  a  bend  of 
her  head  towards  the  rugged  old  door. 

"  Oh,  all  right,  I  suppose,"  said  Essylt ;  "  but  I 
don't  know,  in  my  deed.  We  have  to  trust  to  people's 
word  a  good  deal  in  this  world,  and  from  what  I  have 
seen  of  it  they  are  not  so  much  to  be  trusted,  after 
all." 

"Oh,  there's  good  and  bad  in  the  world,  merc7i-i," 
said  Mary,  with  a  smile  of  content.  "  A  cup  of  tea 
now,  before  you  go.  See,  I  have  it  all  ready — bread 
of  my  own  baking  yesterday,  and  butter  from  Llain, 


54  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

the  best  in  the  neighbourhood.  Come,  now,  it  will 
strengthen  you  for  your  walk  back.  In  my  deed,  you 
are  a  brave  girl  to  push  your  way  through  the  thick- 
ets this  time  of  night." 

"Yes,  I  must  be  brave,"  said  the  girl,  sitting  down 
at  the  hearth,  where  the  baby  had  dropped  asleep, 
with  his  head  on  Tango's  chest,  who  only  looked  up 
and  wagged  his  tail,  as  though  he  said  to  Essylt, 
"Excuse  my  rising;  you  see  how  it  is  with  me." 

"  Come  you  now,"  said  Mary  Lewis.  "  Drink  you 
this,  nice  and  hot;  a  cup  of  tea  never  comes  amiss." 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Essylt ;  "  there  are  worse  things 
than  a  cup  of  tea  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
ach-y-fi!"  and  she  shuddered  a  little,  and  finished  her 
tea  in  silence. 

"Well,  if  you  won't  stay  longer;  but  there,  you've 
a  long  way  to  go,  and  'tis  a  stormy  night." 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind  that,"  said  Essylt.  "Good 
night  to  you,  and  thank  you  kindly,"  and  she  passed 
out  into  the  night,  and  stood  still  a  few  moments  until 
her  eyes  had  become  accustomed  to  the  darkness  be- 
fore she  entered  the  outskirts  of  the  wood,  where  the 
wind  was  swaying  the  bracken  a  little,  and  sighing  in 
the  trees  overhead ;  but  she  heard  nothing  of  it  as  she 
pressed  on  unheeding,  with  her  grey  shawl  over  her 
head. 

For  some  distance  she  walked  on  in  a  dull  brooding 
silence,  thrusting  the  brambles  and  bindweeds  angrily 
aside,  until  at  last,  reaching  the  broader  avenues  of 
the  pinewood,  she  walked  less  carefully,  and  as  if  un- 
able to  control  her  thoughts,  she  spoke  them  aloud  to 
the  night  wind,  shuddering  a  little  with  another 
'*  Ach-y-fi,"  and  drawing  her  shawl  more  tightly 
around  her.  "  Is  that  proud  creature  to  triumph  over 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  55 

me  again,  just  when  I  was  going  to  have  the  chance 
of  triumphing  over  her?  And  they  say  there's  a  just 
God  in  heaven,  and  a  Father  who  watches  over  us; 
that  is  what  old  Phil  says,  but,  twt,  no!  I  can  prove 
that  is  not  true,"  and  she  ground  one  little  fist  into 
the  palm  of  the  other  hand,  as  she  pressed  on  her  way 
towards  the  thicket  lying  between  her  and  Llyn 
Dystaw. 

"  Poor  fool ! "  she  soliloquised  again,  "  to  think  I 
don't  know!  To  think  I  don't  know  that  his  feelings 
are  changed,  that  I  don't  know  his  love  is  dead! 
Well!  so  is  mine.  Eight  years  ago  I  was  young,  and 
happy,  and  fond  of  Michael;  now  I  am  twenty-four, 
Peggy  says — eighty-four  I  call  it,  and  I  don't  care  a 
straw  for  Michael,  and  he's  sick  and  tired  of  me,  but," 
she  added  fiercely,  "  he's  got  to  marry  me,  oh,  yes ! 
I've  not  waited  so  long  to  be  disappointed  at  last — 
surely  no,  surely  no,"  she  added,  dropping  her  chin  on 
her  breast,  and  standing  still  to  look  broodingly  over 
the  little  tarn,  whose  black  surface  was  reflecting  the 
stars  that  shone  out  between  the  drifting  clouds. 

"  I  will  ride  over  that  proud  Barbara ;  I  will  be  as 
high  as  she  is,  and  richer!  and  then  I  will  say,  'Take 
off  that  ribbon  from  your  neck ;  it  does  not  suit  you.' " 

She  had  reached  the  turn  of  the  lake,  which  Tom 
Owen  had  but  that  moment  passed — he  was  even  now 
looking  back  from  the  path  that  diverged  towards  the 
town ;  but  Essylt  did  not  see  him,  she  was  too  much 
engrossed  with  her  own  thoughts,  and  too  anxious  to 
reach  home  before  the  sun  rose.  The  dawn  was  not 
far  off,  for  already  in  the  east  a  faint  light  showed 
the  outlines  of  the  wooded  hills. 

61  A  very  good  thing  Peggy  stopped  at  Caefran  to- 
night," she  thought,  as  she  crossed  the  green  towards 


56  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

the  old  mill,  which  looked  grey  and  dead  in  the  dim 
dawn,  the  ivy  round  its  gable  still  dripping  with  the 
rain,  which  had  only  just  ceased  to  fall. 

An  hour  or  two  before  she  had  left  the  house  little 
.Jane  Tyissa  had  brought  a  message  from  Peggy,  but 
she  had  not  been  very  clear  in  her  account  of  the  acci- 
dent at  Caefran ;  Mrs.  Owen  had  fallen  down  in  the 
garden  and  fainted,  and  therefore  Peggy  would  stay 
the  night  with  her,  and  Essylt  was  not  to  wait  up, 
nor  expect  her  till  she  saw  her. 

So  when  the  girl  had  made  Philip  Lloyd's  supper  of 
bwdran  and  bread  and  cheese,  had  stummed  up  his  fire 
for  the  night,  and,  of  course,  had  discussed  little 
Jane's'  message  with  him,  she  retired  to  her  own 
hearth,  and,  sitting  alone  on  the  settle,  had  dozed  and 
waited  until  she  had  heard  the  usual  familiar  sounds 
that  told  how  the  twilight  was  fading,  and  the  dark- 
ness was  falling — the  last  tinkle  of  the  sheep-bell  in 
the  Caefran  fields,  the  last  clump  of  the  labourer  com- 
ing home  from  his  work;  the  last  bark  of  the  dogs  at 
Tyissa;  the  wind  blowing  up  from  the  south,  and  the 
rain  beginning  to  patter  on  the  roof.  And  as  she 
watched  and  listened,  she  fell  into  a  fit  of  brooding 
thought.  The  expression  of  her  face  grew  sad  and 
anxious,  even  mournful;  the  sarcastic  smile  was  gone, 
and  in  its  absence  one  saw  that  Essylt's  face  could 
look  beautiful ;  for  although  it  was  cast  down  and  sor- 
rowful, to-night  it  spoke  of  human  feelings,  of  pity, 
of  care.  And  was  it  fear  that  blanched  her  cheek, 
that  caused  her  to  open  wide  her  grey  eyes,  and  look 
round  the  dim  bare  cottage,  where  nothing  but  her 
own  shadow  moved  against  the  whitewashed  walls? 

Suddenly  the  clock  struck  twelve,  and  with  a  start 
she  roused  herself.  Reaching  down  an  old  grey  shawl 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  57 

from  the  rafters,  she  went  silently  out,  and  crossing 
the  green,  entered  the  wood,  as  we  have  seen. 

When  she  returned  three  hours  later,  she  went  up 
the  narrow  stairs  that  led  to  her  little  bedroom  with 
slow,  dragging  footsteps,  for  she  was  very  tired.  But 
the  smile  had  returned  to  her  lips,  that  seemed  to  say 
to  all  the  world,  "  Fools !  fools  all  of  you ! " 

As  she  lay  down  on  her  bed  she  recalled  little  Jane 
Tyissa's  message.  Mrs.  Owen  fell  down  in  the  gar- 
den, and  fainted!  "What  was  there  to  faint  about, 
in  a  fall  in  the  garden?  But  I  dare  say  Miss  Bar- 
bara thinks  it's  a  dreadful  trouble.  Well,  it's  only 
fair  she  should  have  a  taste  of  that  too ! "  and  with 
these  thoughts  in  her  mind  she  fell  into  a  dreamless 
sleep,  from  which  she  was  only  awakened  by  a  violent 
shaking  of  the  cottage  door.  For  it  was  nine  o'clock, 
and  to  have  doors  unopened  at  so  late  an  hour  betok- 
ened something  unusual.  So  little  Jane,  when  she  was 
sent  a  second  time  by  Peggy  with  a  message  to  Essylt, 
and  found  no  admittance  into  the  cottage,  had  gone 
to  the  wide  mill  door,  and  asked  one  of  the  miller's 
men  what  she  should  do. 

"Why!  wake  up  the  lazy  croten,"  said  the  man. 
"  Pit  rouse  her  for  you."  And  with  all  the  strength 
of  his  big  wrist  he  rattled  at  the  little  thumb  latch, 
and  awoke  Essylt  from  her  heavy  sleep. 

"  Will  I  go  up  to  help  her  in  the  kitchen,  indeed? 
Yes,  of  course,  in  the  kitchen.  Peggy  won't  let  any- 
one go  near  the  mestress  but  herself!  Well,  I'll  go. 
Tell  her  I'll  be  up  by  and  by."  And  after  a  hurried 
breakfast  she  put  on  her  hat,  taking  it  off  its  nail  and 
putting  it  on  her  head  with  a  look  of  weary  discontent. 
"  Work,  work,  work ! "  she  said  to  herself,  "  and  I'm 
so  tired;  oh,  if  they  only  knew!" 


58  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

At  the  door  she  met  Philip  Lloyd.  "Art  going, 
merch-i?  well,  Vt  shwr,  b't  sTiwr!  go,  help  them,  if 
you  can.  Maychael  will  tell  us  all  about  it,  I  dare 
say,"  and  away  went  the  girl  with  a  new  unrest  in  her 
heart. 

"  Maychael  will  tell  us  all  about  it."  Michael  Lloyd 
at  Caefran!  The  idea  had  never  entered  her  mind  be- 
fore; she  had  never  realised  that  one  of  that  healthy 
family  would  want  a  doctor;  that  it  should  be  Mi- 
chael calling  there  on  equal  terms  with  that  proud 
Barbara!  Oh,  it  was  hateful!  Ah,  well!  if  she  knew 
that  Essylt  was  there,  and  she  would  take  care  that  he 
did  know,  he  dared  not  become  too  friendly  with  Bar- 
bara ;  at  all  events  she  could  watch,  and  with  this  last 
thought  to  solace  her,  she  went  up  the  old  mossy 
drive,  and  turning  round  the  corner  of  the  house,  en- 
tered by  the  back  door,  to  find  Peggy  pattering  about 
everywhere  in  her  stockinged  feet,  laying  the  break- 
fast, dusting  the  room,  and  trying  to  make  every- 
thing comfortable  and  straight  for  Barbara  and  Tom, 
when  they  should  snatch  a  moment  to  run  down  and 
partake  of  the  breakfast  which  she  had  prepared. 

"  What  is  the  matter? "  said  Essylt,  in  a  hard, 
unsympathetic  voice,  and  which  Peggy  instantly  re- 
sented. 

"What  is  the  matter,  indeed? — plenty  the  matter! 
Mestress  vach  fell  off  the  ladder  and  fainted,  and  cut 
her  back  dreadful." 

"  Off  the  ladder !  dear  anwl!  What  was  she  doing 
on  a  ladder  ?  " 

"  Oh !  go  up  she  did  to  help  Muster  Tom  about 
something."  Her  answer  was  rather-  vague,  for  she 
thought  bird's-nesting  would  scarcely  sound  dignified 
enough  for  Mrs.  Owen,  Caefran. 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  59 

"Well,  well!"  said  Essylt.  "Will  I  carry  that 
tray  upstairs  for  you?  " 

"  No,  no,"  said  Peggy.  "  I  can  manage  upstairs 
very  well.  Clear  you  the  kitchen,  and  wash  up  the 
breakfast  things,"  and  Essylt  smiled  as  she  recognised 
Peggy's  usual  manoeuvres  to  monopolise  the  honour 
and  pleasure  of  waiting  upon  her  mistress.  It  was  a 
great  relief  to  find  that  Dr.  Rees  only  had  attended 
Mrs.  Owen.  "He's  coming  again  this  afternoon," 
said  Peggy,  "  because,  mind  you,  she's  very  ill,"  and 
with  bated  breath  and  uplifted  finger  she  began  to  re- 
count the  details  of  the  "  dreadful  fit,"  which  had 
alarmed  them  all  so  much. 

This  time  Essylt  was  properly  interested.  "  And 
how  did  Miss  Barbara  take  it?"  she  asked. 

"  Take  it?  pwr  thing,  vdch!  as  white  as  a  sheet  she 
was,  and  her  hands  all  trembling — but  quiet  and  brave, 
you  wouldn't  know  what  she  felt.  But  dear  anwl!  to- 
day you  can  see  it — great  brown  rings  under  her  eyes, 
all  her  pretty  colour  gone,  and  her  hair  quite  damp  on 
her  forehead ;  in  my  deed,  last  night  has  made  her  five 
years  older." 

To  this  Essylt  made  no  answer;  but  while  she  bus- 
ied herself  with  the  household  work,  some  unwelcome 
thought  seemed  again  to  take  possession  of  her,  for  the 
serious,  sorrowful  look  returned  to  her  face,  and  soft- 
ened it. 

You  cannot  know  all  that  goes  on  in  a  household  if 
your  presence  is  confined  entirely  to  the  kitchen.  Up- 
stairs the  watchers  by  the  sick-bed  may  be  sadly 
counting  the  sands  of  time  that  are  rapidly  running 
out.  A  new  young  life  may  have  begun  its  course  of 
joy  and  sorrow;  a  shadowy  grey  form  may  have  en- 
tered, and  laying  his  hand  upon  the  fairest  and  dear- 


60  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

est,  may  have  carried  him  away  in  the  folds  of  his 
dark  wings.  All  this  may  happen  upstairs,  while 
downstairs  in  the  comfortable  kitchen  the  fire  burns 
brightly  as  ever,  the  kettle  sings  cheerfully  on  the  hob, 
and  the  cat  purrs  contentedly  before  the  fire. 

This  was  borne  in  upon  Essylt's  mind  as  Peggy 
pattered  in  and  out  at  her  work,  and  she  made  up  her 
mind,  with  her  shrewd  smile,  that,  in  spite  of  Peggy's 
jealous  admonitions,  she  would  take  matters  into  her 
own  hands,  and  gradually  work  her  way  into  the  sick- 
room; not  to-day,  nor  to-morrow,  perhaps,  but  before 
long,  she  was  determined  to  know  for  herself  what 
ailed  Mrs.  Owen,  and  to  see  what  Barbara  suffered, 
what  made  her  look  older,  and  brought  the  dark  rings 
of  care  under  her  eyes.  She  was  at  Caefran,  there- 
fore, when  Michael  Lloyd  paid  his  first  call  upon  the 
invalid. 

"Who  d'you  think,  lass,"  said  Peggy,  delighted, 
"who  d'you  think  has  gone  up  to  see  the  mistress? 
Why,  Michael  Lloyd!  There's  for  thee!  And  as 
much  at  home  as  if  he  was  in  the  old  mill  with  his 
father.  *  How  d'you  do,  and  I'm  glad  very  glad  to 
see  you,'  said  Miss  Barbara.  'Welcome,  Miss  vdch, 
and  how  d'y  do  ?  '  says  he,  and  shaking  hands  up  to 
the  elbow  they  were.  Now  he's  gone  upstairs  with 
her,  so  there !  " 

Essylt  answered  not  a  word,  but  she  flushed  an 
angry  red.  'Twas  so  strange,  so  unexpected,  this  new 
barbed  arrow  that  was  poisoning  her  life.  Why  had 
she  never  thought  of  it?  But  there!  her  eyes  were 
opened  now,  and  she  must  watch,  watch,  watch! 

As  the  days  went  on  she  carried  out  her  intention 
of  entering  the  sick-room,  and  so  quiet  were  her  ways, 
so  soft  her  step,  that  Mrs.  Owen  soon  became  accus- 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  61 

tomed  to  her  presence,  much  to  Peggy's  annoyance, 
and  before  long  she  had  made  herself  quite  indispens- 
able to  the  invalid.  As  for  Barbara,  her  former  dis- 
approval of  the  girl  was  entirely  lost  in  her  anxiety 
for  her  mother's  recovery.  Essylt  no  longer  wore  her 
blue  beads,  and  was  so  ready  to  help,  to  suggest,  and 
to  carry  out,  that  Barbara  began  to  think  she  had 
been  wrong  in  her  estimate  of  the  girl's  character. 
"  But  I  see  what  Tom  means,"  she  said  one  day  as  she 
saw  Essylt  silently  leave  the  room,  in  which  she  had 
not  been  aware  of  her  presence.  "  She  has  some 
strange  ways  about  her,  with  those  veiled  eyes,  and 
her  soft  footsteps  like  a  cat,"  and  her  distrust  re- 
turned, and  no  wonder,  for  close  to  her,  under  the  same 
roof,  was  an  enemy,  who  watched  her  with  the  secret, 
implacable  hatred  that  still  lives  on  in  the  Celtic 
nature. 

There  was  not  much  occasion  for  help  in  the  sick- 
room, for  Mrs.  Owen  was  daily  recovering  her 
strength;  she  was  downstairs  when  Tom  came  home 
from  his  office  in  the  evening,  her  face  brightening  up 
to  receive  him;  and  although  much  of  her  time  was 
spent  on  the  sofa,  much  of  it  also  was  spent  in  the  gar- 
den, where  Essylt  had  found  a  shady  corner  for  the 
light  wicker  couch,  and  the  old  happy  time  seemed  to  be 
returning,  when  Barbara  need  no  longer  exclaim  or 
implore  in  broken-hearted  tones,  "  Mother  and  Tom 
and  I,  how  happy  we  were  together ! "  For  it  was  so 
again;  and  all  through  that  leafy  June  the  sunshine 
seemed  to  carry  with  it,  into  the  invalid's  system,  re- 
stored powers  of  health  and  energy,  and  they  all  be- 
gan to  forget  the  terrible  ordeal  through  which  they 
had  passed — the  mysterious  paroxysms  of  agony  which 
the  mother,  who  was  dearer  to  them  than  their  own 


62  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

lives,  had  been  called  upon  to  endure,  while  they  stood 
by  and  watched  without  power  to  relieve. 

Now  the  old  garden  was  once  more  a  very  paradise 
of  delights,  while  they  walked  together  between  the 
beds  of  old-fashioned  flowers,  the  roses !  the  tulips ! 
the  mignonette !  the  sweet  peas !  How  redolent  of 
their  fragrance  was  the  summer  air! 

Dr.  Rees  had  started  on  his  holiday  tour,  and  Bar- 
bara had  learnt  of  his  distant  destination  without  un- 
easiness. 

"It's  all  right,"  said  Tom.  "He's  left  a  better 
man  than  himself  in  his  place,  which  was  not  a  difficult 
thing  to  do,  I  think,  fond  as  I  am  of  the  dear  old 
doctor;  and  should  dear  mother  be  ill  again,  we  are 
quite  safe  with  Michael  Lloyd." 

"  Tom ! "  said  Barbara,  with  a  terrified  look  in  her 
eyes.  "Should  mother  be  til  again!  how  can  you  sug- 
gest such  a  thing?  I  could  never  bear  it.  Listen, 
Tom;  I  firmly  believe  it  would  kill  me — kill  me,  mind 
you,  to  see  her  suffer  again  as  she  once  did." 

"Yes,  I  think  it  would  pretty  well  do  for  me  too," 
said  Tom ;  "  but,  Barbara,  I  have  never  quite  under- 
stood why  such  a  simple  accident  should  have  caused 
such  terrible  suffering.  I  was  talking  to  Michael 
Lloyd  about  it." 

**  Oh,  Tom ! "  interrupted  the  girl,  shrinking  as 
though  he  had  laid  his  finger  on  an  open  wound. 
"Why  talk  about  private  affairs  before  strangers? 
especially  to  a  man  who  is  quite — quite — er,  well — 
not  quite  in  the  same  class  as  ourselves." 

"  By  Jove !  "  said  Tom.  "  I  thought  you  were  go- 
ing to  say  not  quite  a  gentleman,  but  you  couldn't 
have  made  such  a  mistake  as  that." 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  63 

"  No,  he's  certainly  that,"  said  Barbara ;  "  but,  you 
know,  Tom,  I  can't  quite  get  over  the  fact  that  he's 
old  Phil-y-Velin's  son." 

"Yes,  of  course,  he  is,  but  what  of  that?  And  his 
grandmother  was  a  gipsy,  I've  heard — but  a  good, 
noble  woman,  who  used  her  wonderful  knowledge  of 
herbs  for  the  good  of  the  whole  neighbourhood,  with- 
out charging  a  penny  for  it." 

"  Very  unlike  a  gipsy,  I  must  say,"  said  Barbara ; 
"  but  so  is  Michael  Lloyd  in  appearance." 

"  Yes ;  he  takes  after  his  father — image  of  him, 
isn't  he?" 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  said  Barbara,  with  a  little 
toss  of  her  head.  "  You  seem  to  hold  a  brief  for  your 
young  doctor." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Tom.  "  He  doesn't  require  any- 
one to  bolster  him  up,  I  can  tell  you;  he's  making  his 
way  rapidly  with  rich  and  poor,  high  and  low,  and 
no  wonder!  I  tell  you,  Barbara,  whatever  you  may 
think  of  him,  I  like  him.  He's  the  j  oiliest  fellow  liv- 
ing." 

"Well,  indeed,  Tom,"  said  Barbara,  "you  are  too 
enthusiastic." 

"And  you're  a  deuced  deal  too  proud."  He  rose 
hurriedly  from  the  breakfast-table,  and  passing  into 
the  hall,  took  his  hat  and  gloves  from  the  stand.  In 
a  few  moments,  however,  he  looked  in  at  the  door 
again,  and  said,  "  Am  not  really  cross,  you  know, 
Barbara." 

"  No,  no,  old  boy,"  she  answered  with  a  merry 
laugh,  "  I  know  that,"  and  Tom  hurried  away  down 
the  drive. 

He  whistled  softly  to  himself,  as  he  had  a  habit  of 


64)  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

doing  when  his  thoughts  were  busy,  either  with  a 
knotty  legal  question,  or,  as  this  morning,  with  a  puz- 
zling problem  in  his  own  life,  and  he  suddenly  burst 
out  with,  "  I  don't  care  what  Barbara  says.  Mother 
is  not  what  she  was  before  that  accident,  and  I  will 
ask  Michael  Lloyd  about  it  when  I  have  the  chance." 


CHAPTER   V 

THE  summer  was  passing  away.  June  in  her  robes 
of  blue  and  her  chaplet  of  roses ;  July  with  her  cheq- 
uered garments  of  grey  and  gold;  each  in  their  way 
had  brought  their  charms  to  the  old  garden  at  Caefran, 
and  now  August  had  come  with  its  stores  of  grain  and 
fruit. 

Out  in  the  orchard  in  the  shade  of  the  apple  trees 
Barbara  was  sitting  at  the  tea-table,  on  which  Peggy 
had  just  laid  a  pile  of  her  very  best  tea-cakes,  the 
honey,  the  cream  from  Tyissa ;  the  crowning  touch  of 
beauty  the  old  china  bowl  filled  with  late  roses  and 
musk. 

"  Dr.  Lloyd  promised  to  come  and  see  me  again, 
and  he  has  never  come,"  Mrs.  Owen  had  said  one  day ; 
and,  as  a  consequence  of  this  remark,  Michael  was  now 
sitting  at  the  table  under  the  apple  trees,  enjoying, 
with  the  members  of  the  Caefran  family,  the  glowing 
tints  of  the  evening  sky,  and  the  balmy  air  laden  with 
the  odour  of  many  flowers ;  enjoying  also  the  simple 
fare,  and  the  pleasant  social  intercourse.  He  had,  in 
fact,  been  a  rather  frequent  visitor  of  late,  for 
"  mother "  had  expressed  the  wish  that  it  should  be 
so,  and  that  was  enough  for  her  children.  Barbara 
had  apparently  lost  her  shrinking  dislike  for  him;  for, 
although  her  manner  towards  him  was  still  a  little 
formal,  that  was  only  the  natural  outcome  of  a  rather 
shy  and  reserved  nature.  She  was  innately  proud, 
but  she  was  not  innately  vulgar,  and  therefore  her 
natural  class  prejudice  had  given  way  to  a  feeling  of 

65 


66  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

honest  liking  for  the  strong,  though  refined  son  of  the 
soil. 

As  for  Mrs.  Owen,  she  was  at  her  best  in  Michael 
Lloyd's  presence.  He  amused  and  interested  her  with 
tales  of  village  life,  with  which  his  practice  brought 
him  into  touch,  as  well  as  with  anecdotes  of  the  outside 
world.  Indeed,  she  was  fast  becoming  as  ardent  an 
admirer  of  the  new  doctor  as  Tom  himself.  Barbara 
alone  seemed  to  stand  calmly  aloof,  although  there 
were  occasions  when  a  rising  flush  in  the  cheeks,  a 
smiling  sparkle  in  the  brown  eyes,  showed  the  warmth 
and  interest  which  the  quiet  manner  endeavoured  to 
hide. 

"Yes,  I  was  right,"  thought  Michael,  as  he  noted 
the  varying  emotions  reflected  in  the  girl's  sensitive 
face,  how  it  lighted  up  when  he  recounted  some  inci- 
dent of  humble  self-sacrifice,  how  the  eyes  flashed  with 
indignation  and  scorn  at  some  tale  of  cruelty  or  mean- 
ness. Ah!  what  a  privilege  it  would  be  to  tell  her  of 
all  the  interests  which  his  greater  knowledge  of  the 
world,  his  learning,  his  scientific  studies  had  opened 
out  to  him,  what  happiness  to  feel  that  another  eager 
and  sympathising  soul  entered  into  his  own  ideals — • 
and  here  he  would  stop  with  a  mental  gasp,  would  pull 
himself  up  with  an  impatient  start.  What  was  it  to 
him  if  the  flickering  shadows  of  thought  and  feeling, 
the  blush  of  pleasure,  the  sudden  cloud  of  sorrow  con- 
tinually varied  the  expression  of  that  beautiful  face 
as  the  surface  of  a  lake  responds  to  the  clouds  or  sun- 
shine above  it?  And  a  cold,  dark  shadow  would  fall 
upon  his  heart  as  a  vision  of  Essylt  would  rise  before 
him,  and  with  a  sudden  grave  remorse  he  would  recall 
his  thoughts  in  the  Meivon  woods,  "What  does  it  mat- 
ter? There  are  hundreds  of  people  in  the  world  with 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  67 

a  secret  sorrow  in  their  lives."  By  and  by  Peggy 
came  out  to  clear  the  table,  and  sitting  there  in  the 
gloaming,  Mrs.  Owen  and  Barbara  chatted  and 
worked,  while  Tom  and  Michael  smoked  with  that  free- 
dom from  restraint  which  is  the  chief  charm  of  coun- 
try life. 

The  twilight  was  darkening,  and  the  dew  was  be- 
ginning to  fall,  when  at  last  they  entered  the  house, 
through  the  open  French  window,  where  the  lamp  on 
the  table  was  shedding  a  soft  light  over  the  old-fash- 
ioned sitting-room. 

It  was  the  usual  custom  with  the  Caefran  family  to 
sing  the  last  hours  of  the  day  away,  so  nobody  waited 
to  be  asked,  but  Tom  sat  down  at  once,  and  began  his 
rambling  snatches  of  music,  while  Mrs.  Owen  listened, 
serenely  happy,  and  Barbara  occasionally  hummed  a 
bar.  Michael  turned  over  the  contents  of  a  music 
case,  and  selecting  a  piece  therefrom,  placed  it  on  the 
piano  before  Tom.  "  Eh,  yes  !  *  Memory,'  "  the  latter 
said.  "  Come,  mother  and  Barbara,"  and  together 
they  sang  words  that  were  doomed  to  return  to  their 
hearts  and  minds  a  hundred  times  in  the  varying 
scenes  of  life. 

Through  the  open  window  the  last  faint  glow  from 
the  west  came  in  and  mingled  with  the  soft  light  of 
the  lamp ;  the  lingering  melody,  the  tender  words,  all 
combined  to  invest  the  hour  with  a  wistful  charm, 
which  was  felt  by  them  all — more  especially  by  Mi- 
chael. Even  Tom,  the  least  romantic  of  the  party, 
said,  after  the  last  chord  had  died  away,  "  Ah !  it  is 
beautiful;  let  us  sing  it  again,"  and  once  more  the 
three  voices  blended  in  harmony.  No  wonder  that  the 
hours  slipped  by  unnoticed,  and  it  was  late  when 
Michael  rose  with  a  start,  and  looked  at  his  watch. 


68  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  Dear  me !  eleven  o'clock !  I  must  go  at  once.  I 
have  yet  a  patient  to  visit — the  old  man  wouldn't 
sleep  a  wink  if  he  didn't  see  me.  Dr.  Rees  will  prob- 
ably be  home  before  the  end  of  the  month.  He  will 
be  glad  to  see  you  looking  so  well,"  he  said,  as  he 
wished  Mrs.  Owen  good  night. 

"  Well,  indeed,"  she  said,  "  you  mustn't  let  his  re- 
turn prevent  you  coming  up  to  see  us  often." 

"  That  would  be  depriving  myself  of  a  great  pleas- 
ure," said  Michael,  as  he  held  Barbara's  hand  in.  his 
own  for  a  moment  in  parting ;  "  but,  you  know,  I  shall 
be  going  away  myself  when  he  returns  for  about  three 
months.  Good  night,  Miss  Barbara,  and  don't  let 
Mrs.  Owen  stoop  over  the  weeds." 

"Ah!  I  know  what  mother  means,"  thought  the  girl 
as  he  went  out ;  "  his  hand  feels  as  if  it  could  help  you, 
and  raise  you  out  of  a  difficulty."  But  she  kept  her 
thought  to  herself,  as  she  generally  did,  and  that  was 
why  people  thought  Barbara  Owen  was  cold  and  hard. 

As  Michael  went  down  the  drive  alone,  the  music  he 
had  just  heard  still  rang  in  his  ears,  and  the  words — 
how  they  haunted  him! 

"Oh,  memory!      fond  memory! 
When  all  things  fail,  we  turn  to  thee." 

"  Twt,  twt!  "  he  said  as  the  old  mill,  with  its  com- 
panion cottage,  came  in  sight ;  "  no  dreaming  for  you, 
Michael,  but  rather  stubborn  facts  and  real  life.  The 
dear  old  dad,"  he  thought  as  he  caught  sight  of  the 
quaint  gable  against  the  rising  moon,  "  fast  asleep, 
no  doubt,  and  Essylt  asleep  too,  I  hope,"  and  then  a 
shadow  of  anxiety  fell  over  his  face  as  he  remembered 
how  she  had  looked  when  he  had  last  seen  her. 
"  Poor  girl ! "  he  thought,  "  she  is  looking  careworn 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  69 

and  harassed,  and  no  wonder!  this  long  waiting  must 
try  her  patience  and  love.  In  my  deed,  I'll  end  it  all 
by  marrying  her  at  once.  What  can  she  mean  by 
*  waiting  till  the  spring  '  ?  No,  let  me  take  the  plunge 
— let  me  brave  the  talk  of  the  gossips,  and — let  me 
tell  Barbara  Owen  I  am  going  to  marry  Essylt  of  the 
Mill-tail.  She  will  raise  her  pretty  eyebrows — never 
mind! 

"Will  she  care?  Never  mind!!  Will  I  care? 
Never  mind  again!!!  And  with  a  hard,  mirthless 
laugh,  he  vaulted  the  stile  into  the  Meivon  woods, 
which  now  were  silent  and  lonely  and  dark,  except 
where  the  moon  threw  bars  of  silver  light  at  intervals 
on  to  the  path. 

So  wrapped  was  he  in  his  own  thoughts  that  he  had 
reached  Llyn  Dystaw  before  he  realised  where  he  was, 
and  there,  collecting  his  ideas,  he  was  surprised  to  see, 
a  little  in  advance  of  him,  a  moving  grey  figure — a 
woman — a  girl,  surely  Essylt!  So  sure  was  he  that 
he  called  aloud,  "  Essylt  lass ! "  But  there  was  no 
answer,  and  the  grey  figure  disappeared  suddenly  from 
the  path.  He  hurried  after  it,  knowing  that  at  the 
curve  of  the  lake  which,  she  was  just  reaching  she  must 
take  the  turn  to  the  right;  there,  on  the  straight  and 
more  open  glade  he  would  see  her  more  distinctly,  and 
make  sure  who  it  was. 

When  he  arrived  there,  however,  there  was  no  one 
to  be  seen;  and  thinking  the  vision  had  been  a  trick 
of  his  imagination,  he  walked  on  steadily.  At  all 
events  it  was  not  Essylt  who  was  thus  roaming  alone 
like  a  ghost,  when  she  should  be  at  home  and  asleep, 
"  and  yet,"  he  thought,  as  he  at  last  left  the  woods, 
and  emerged  to  the  highroad,  "  and  yet — I  could 
have  sworn  it  was  she,"  and  the  cold  grey  cloud  fell 


70  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

heavily  upon  his  heart  again — the  cloud  that  threat- 
ened to  darken  his  future,  and  to  wrap  him  every  day 
more  closely  in  its  folds. 

When  he  reached  Dr.  Rees's  door  he  turned,  and 
looking  up  the  deserted  street  he  saw  over  the  chim- 
ney tops  the  round  fair  moon  rising  above  the  outline 
of  the  wooded  hills  which  overlooked  the  Meivon  val- 
ley. Yes,  there  was  Caefran  marked  clear  against 
the  night  sky,  and  he  entered  the  prosaic  town-dwell- 
ing with  a  sigh,  and  the  words  ringing  in  his  ears, 
"  Oh,  memory !  fond  memory !  when  all  things  fail,  we 
turn  to  thee." 

Poor  Michael !  a  sigh  of  sentiment,  a  song  of  linger- 
ing regret.  "  What  had  he  to  do  with  such  things  ?  " 
He  asked  himself  the  question  scornfully,  and  answered 
it  with  a  stern  decision,  "Nothing."  To  do  him  jus- 
tice, his  last  thoughts  were  of  Essylt,  his  last  resolve 
was  to  bring  his  present  false  position  to  an  end,  to 
begin  by  apprising  his  father  of  his  intentions.  "  Poor 
old  man!"  he  thought.  "What  will  he  say?"  And 
this  was  another  cause  of  deep  unrest  to  him ;  for  he 
loved  the  sturdy  miller,  and  recalled  all  he  had  done 
for  him  with  the  old-fashioned  feeling  of  dutiful  grati- 
tude, which  is  so  often  found  wanting  in  the  rising 
generation. 

When  the  clear  morning  light  shone  in  upon  him 
next  day,  it  was  characteristic  of  Michael  Lloyd  that 
he  sprang  up  full  of  eager  determination  to  carry  out 
the  course  of  action  upon  which  he  had  decided  the 
night  before.  Yes,  at  once  he  would  smother  his 
vague  hopes  and  cut  off  his  dawning  desires ;  he  would 
at  least  have  the  satisfaction  of  feeling  that  he  had 
struck  the  blow  himself,  and  strangled  the  first  flower 
of  real  love  that  had  ever  sprung  up  in  his  heart.  No 


UNDER     THE    THATCH  71 

one  else  should  interfere,  no  one  would  ever  hear  of  the 
untimely  birth,  nor  of  its  swift  destruction. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  he  left  the  town  behind  him, 
on  his  way  to  the  old  mill,  and  coming  up  with  Tom 
Owen,  who  was  going  home  from  his  office,  they  walked 
together  in  the  same  direction. 

"  Quite  unusual  to  see  you  on  foot,"  said  Tom. 

"Yes;  I  haven't  much  time  for  walking — am  going 
to  see  my  father." 

"Lucky  chance  for  me." 

"  How  is  your  mother  to-day  ?  " 

"Well,  very  fit,  thank  you.  I  think  she's  wonder- 
ful, after  what  she's  suffered.  What  was  it,  doctor? 
I  have  often  thought  of  asking  you,  but  have  never 
had  a  good  opportunity  until  to-day.  Now  do  tell 
me;  it  seems  an  extraordinary  thing  that  such  a  sim- 
ple accident  should  have  brought  on  such  a  terrible 
attack." 

"  Not  nearly  so  wonderful  as  that  Mrs.  Owen  should 
have  recovered  so  completely — as  she  seems  to  have 
done.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  my  opinion  of  the  case 
was  entirely  opposed  to  Dr.  Rees's;  but  he  seems  to 
have  been  right,  and  I  wrong,  and  I  am  thankful  that 
it  is  so.  It  would  be  no  use  bewildering  you  with 
medical  terms,  but  in  plain  words,  Tom,  I  thought  she 
had  injured  some  of  the  nerves  of  the  back;  the  wound 
was  very  deep,  Dr.  Rees  tells  me,  and  so  close  to  the 
spine  that  I  cannot  see  how  it  can  be  otherwise.  How- 
ever, facts  are  stubborn  things,  and  here  she  is  get- 
ting strong  and  well  again,  and  able  to  sing  as  she 
did  last  night.  What  a  lovely  voice  she  has ! " 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom  with  pride,  "  as  clear  and  true  as 
ever.  Barbara  isn't  a  patch  upon  it,  in  my  opin- 
ion." 


72  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  Oh,  quite  as  beautiful,"  said  Michael,  "  but  not  as 
powerful.  That  trio  has  been  ringing  in  my  ears  ever 
since.  '  When  all  things  fail,  we  turn  to  thee,'  "  and 
he  hummed  the  air  in  such  a  musical  voice  that  Tom 
looked  round  at  him  suddenly. 

"Why!  you've  a  fine  voice  yourself,  and  you've 
never  sung  to  us,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  pretty  well,"  said  Michael.  "  My  friends  in 
London  thought  a  good  deal  of  it,  and  said  it  was 
worth  cultivating." 

"  What  a  shame,"  said  Tom,  "  that  we  have  never 
heard  it!" 

"  Oh,  never  mind,  that's  a  pleasure  to  come ;  there 
was  nothing  missing  in  your  music  last  night.  I 
should  not  have  cared  to  interrupt  it.  I'll  sing  to 
you  some  day — perhaps,"  he  added,  as  the  thought 
flashed  across  him  that  his  singing  days  were  over. 

"  But  what  was  your  opinion  of  mother's  illness  ?  " 
said  Tom,  returning  to  the  subject  which  was  often  in 
his  thoughts. 

"  Well,  as  I  tell  you,"  said  Michael,  "  that  the  in- 
jury to  the  nerves  of  the  spine  would  cause  paroxysms 
of  pain,  recurring  more  and  more  frequently." 

"  Good  heavens ! "  said  Tom,  standing  still  in  the 
path.  "I  am  thankful  you  were  wrong,  any  way; 
you  don't  know  what  it  would  mean  to  Barbara  and 
me." 

"  Yes,  I  do,  quite  well,  and,  of  course,  I  would  not 
wish  your  sister  to  know  that  I  ever  held  such  an 
opinion ;  and  I  would  not  have  mentioned  it  to  you  had 
I  not  felt  sure  that  I  had  been  mistaken." 

"  One  for  old  Dr.  Rees,  wasn't  it  ?  "  said  Tom. 

"  Yes,  indeed !  "  said  Michael. 

They  had  taken  the  short  cut  through  the  woods, 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  73 

and  had  just  come  in  sight  of  Llyn  Dystaw,  shining 
like  a  sheet  of  silver  under  the  afternoon  sun. 

"  By  and  by,"  said  Tom,  "  there's  another  thing  I 
often  thought  of  asking  you.  Essylt,  you  know  her, 
of  course ! " 

"Well,  of  course,"  said  Michael;  "what  of  her? 
You  forget  I  was  bred  and  born  under  the  same  roof 
with  her.  Of  course  I  know  her — no  one  better." 

"  Yes ;  well  now,  has  it  ever  struck  you  that  there's 
something  mysterious  or  underhand  about  that  girl  ?  " 

"  Never,"  said  Michael  loyally. 

"  Something  strange  and  uncanny,  I  mean — with 
those  heavy  eyelids ;  that  isn't  it  exactly,  but  what  can 
she  want  in  these  woods  at  midnight  ?  " 

"  At  midnight !  in  these  woods ! "  gasped  Michael, 
remembering  his  vision  of  the  night  before.  "What 
do  you  mean?  " 

"  Well,  you  know,  last  week  when  we  supped  at  old 
Captain  Morris's  how  late  we  stayed.  By  Jove!  I 
wonder  the  old  fellow  did  not  turn  us  out;  but  he's  so 
hospitable,  I  believe  he  would  have  been  all  the  better 
pleased  if  we  had  stayed  an  hour  longer;  as  it  was,  it 
was  twelve  o'clock,  you  know." 

"Yes,  it  was  rather  late,"  said  Michael;  "but  what 
about  Essylt?" 

"Well,  I  was  coming  home  this  way — 'twas  a  very 
cloudy  night,  and  I  was  alone,  so  everything  was  very 
still — not  a  sound  to  be  heard,  except  the  trickling  of 
the  stream.  Suddenly  I  heard  footsteps  coming  to- 
wards me  along  the  path  by  the  lake,  and  remember- 
ing another  little  episode  of  the  same  kind  that  I  had 
experienced  there  a  few  weeks  ago,  I  hid  myself  in  the 
bushes  and  waited,  and  who  should  come  in  sight, 
d'you  think,  but  Essylt." 


74  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

"  Essylt ! "  exclaimed  Michael  again.  "  You  must 
be  mistaken,  my  dear  fellow.  You  said  it  was  a 
cloudy  night.  What  could  she  want  here  so  late?" 

"  Indeed,  I  was  not  mistaken,  though,"  said  Tom. 
"  She  passed  quite  close  to  me,  for  I  was  still  as  a 
mouse;  she  had  a  grey  shawl  over  her  head;  and 
where  d'you  think  she  went  ?  Why !  right  in  there," 
and  he  pointed  to  the  thicket  which  they  were  leaving 
on  their  right;  "stooped  under  the  brambles  and 
thorns  as  if  she  were  quite  accustomed  to  it,  and  that 
was  the  very  spot  I  saw  her  emerge  from  once  before, 
so  I  don't  think  I  am  far  wrong  in  saying  she  has 
some  queer  ways  about  her." 

Michael,  shocked  and  astonished,  walked  on  for 
some  time  in  silence.  It  was  plain  to  him  from  Tom's 
manner  that  at  least  he  was  convinced  of  the  correct- 
ness of  his  suspicions,  and  remembering  the  figure  he 
had  seen  the  night  before,  he  could  scarcely  doubt  that 
it  was  Essylt. 

"  You  surprise  me  more  than  I  call  tell  you,"  he 
said.  "I  am  sure  there  must  be  some  simple  expla- 
nation of  it.  You  mistook  something  else  for  a 
woman's  figure.  'Tisn't  likely  that  Essylt  would  be 
out  here  at  night,  a  girl  alone  at  such  an  hour  in  these 
dark  woods;  she  would  be  too  timid — not  that  she  is 
a  coward,  by  any  means !  " 

"  Well,  it  is  a  strange  thing,"  said  Tom.  "  One 
thing  I  know  is  that  I  was  not  mistaken.  I  haven't 
told  Barbara  a  word  about  it.  She's  a  strange  girl, 
you  know — my  sister  Barbara,  as  straight  as  a  line, 
and  rather  hard  upon  anything  underhand.  I 
thought  it  might  make  her  uncomfortable,  because 
Essylt  is  very  useful  to  her;  they  have  become  great 
friends  of  late,  since  mother's  illness." 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  75 

Michael  said  nothing.  What  could  he  say?  So  he 
walked  on  in  troubled  thought. 

Much  as  he  liked  Tom  Owen's  frank  and  genial 
company,  he  was  glad  when  they  reached  the  stile,  and 
he  was  left  there  alone  to  sit  a  moment  with  his  own 
thoughts.  He  never  doubted  Essylt,  but  Tom's  ac- 
count of  his  midnight  experience,  followed  by  his  own 
of  the  night  before,  had  not  failed  to  disturb  him 
somewhat.  The  girl  he  was  going  to  marry,  though 
only  a  peasant,  must  be  spotless  and  above  suspicion — 
not  only  in  his  opinion,  but  in  the  eyes  of  the  world 
— their  little  world,  of  course!  He  would  see  her  at 
once;  a  word  would  clear  up  this  mystery,  and  cross- 
ing the  green  he  tapped  at  Peggy's  door.  It  was 
shut,  and  there  was  no  answer  from  within. 

While  he  stood  there  waiting  he  heard  round  the 
corner  the  clap  clap  of  the  big  wheel  and  the  rush  of 
the  stream,  and  knew  that  they  were  busy  with  the 
grinding  at  the  mill.  Before  going  round  to  the  wide 
door,  however,  he  looked  over  the  fence  to  the  cottage 
garden,  which  stretched — just  a  strip  along  the  edge 
of  the  wood,  to  the  back  of  the  mill  itself,  where,  run- 
ning down  at  an  angle  from  the  other,  was  the  long 
garden  that  Phil  himself  loved  to  work  in,  leaving  the 
weeding  alone  to  Peggy  and  Essylt.  Surely  at  the 
further  corner  there  was  a  stooping  blue  figure!  and 
going  round,  through  the  trees  at  the  back,  he  let 
himself  in  through  the  familiar  little  gate.  The 
paths  were  strewn  with  the  debris  of  the  weeding,  so 
that  his  footsteps  made  no  sound  as  he  approached 
the  blue  figure  sitting  there  in  the  shade  of  a  currant 
bush,  her  hands  lying  idle  on  her  lap,  and  her  attitude 
one  of  deep  dejection.  Essylt's  face  was  hidden  by 
her  white  sun-bonnet,  for  she  seemed  to  be  looking 


76  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

down  at  the  ground  or  at  her  own  blue  gown  She 
started  when  Michael  came  within  the  range  of  her 
vision. 

"  Caton  Pawb!  Maychael!  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Wher'st 
come  from  this  time  of  day?  and  walking  so  soft  I 
didn't  hear  thee?" 

"  No  ?  "  said  Michael,  coming  to  a  standstill  in  silent 
surprise — the  air  of  dejection,  the  lines  of  care  in  the 
face,  the  traces  of  tears  in  the  eyes ! — yes,  for  certain 
Essylt  had  been  crying,  and  Michael's  heart  softened 
towards  her. 

"What  is  it,  lass?  What  is  maldng  thee  sad?"  he 
asked,  taking  her  hand,  and  helping  her  to  rise,  which 
she  did  with  an  air  of  cheerfulness,  very  far  removed 
from  the  appearance  of  depresson  which  he  thought 
he  had  seen  in  her  attitude  as  he  approached.  "  Come 
out  to  the  wood  with  me,"  he  said,  drawing  her  towards 
the  little  gate.  "  We  can  talk  better  there,"  and  to- 
gether they  crossed  the  stile,  and  followed  the  path 
to  Llyn  Dystaw  once  more,  and  Essylt  laughed  and 
talked  with  an  unnatural  gaiety  which  did  not  deceive 
Michael.  She  was  hiding  something  from  him,  of  that 
he  felt  certain,  though  that  the  secret  held  in  it  any- 
thing dishonourable  never  entered  his  mind. 

"What  is  it,  lass?  "  he  said  again;  "  'tis  time  thou 
shouldst  learn  that  no  secrets  need  be  kept  from  me. 
I  have  noticed  these  three  months  past  that  thou  art 
not  so  light-hearted  as  thou  used  to  be ;  thou  art  more 
pale,  and  hast  a  harassed  look  upon  thy  face;  some- 
thing is  weighing  on  thy  mind.  Art  sure  thou  art 
well,  merch-i?  "  He  felt  very  tenderly  towards  her  as 
he  spoke,  and  had  thrown  as  much  sympathy  and  as 
little  appearance  of  curiosity  as  he  could  into  his 
voice,  and  was  therefore  quite  unprepared  for  the 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  77 

sudden  burst  of  anger  with  which  his  words  were  re- 
ceived. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  me,  indeed?"  she  said. 
"What  is  the  matter  with  thee,  Maychael  Lloyd? 
What  has  changed  thee  so  sudden?  finding  fault  with 
me  to  my  face!  Perhaps  it  is  that  my  face  does  not 
please  thee;  indeed,  it  would  be  strange  if  it  did  all 
these  years,  but  even  then,  thou  need'st  not  taunt  one 
with  looking  pale  and  haggard." 

" .Harassed  I  said,  merch-i"  said  Michael  quietly, 
"and  this  burst  of  temper  proves  to  me  that  there  is 
something  wrong  with  thee;  it  is  so  unjust,  so  unreas- 
onable, Essylt.  What  is  the  matter  with  thee,  lodes?  " 
They  had  reached  the  further  curve  of  the  lake,  and 
he  continued :  "  I  had  something  to  say  to  thee ;  let 
us  turn  back  here,  where  we  are  quite  alone,  or,"  with 
a  sudden  inspiration,  "  can't  we  follow  the  round  of 
the  lake?  Can't  we  push  our  way  through  that  thicket? 
Surely  there  must  be  a  path  through  the  woods  be- 
yond it ! " 

"Through  that  thicket!"  said  Essylt.  "Dear 
anwl!  there  wouldn't  be  a  shred  of  me  left.  Push  our 
way  through  the  drysn  when  here  it  is  smooth  and 
easy — ach-y-fi!  not  I,  indeed!  Say  what  thou  hast  to 
say,  Maychael,  but  spare  me  thy  questions." 

"  I  will  ask  thee  none,"  said  Michael ;  "  but  I  will 
tell  thee  painly  what  I  am  going  to  do." 

"What?"  she  said,  turning  to  him  with  a  startled 
look. 

"  Well,  this — thou  art  not  willing  to  marry  me  at 
once?  " 

"  Not  till  the  spring,  Maychael,"  she  said,  a  little 
softness  returning  to  her  voice.  "Then  if  thou  wish- 
est,  I  will  marry  thee." 


78  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"But  not  till  then?" 

"  No,  indeed." 

"And  thou  wilt  not  agree  to  my  telling  my  friends 
•  of  our  betrothal?  " 

Essylt  shook  her  head. 

"  Well,  'tis  a  painful  position  for  me,  but  I  will  con- 
sent to  thy  wish,  Essylt,  in  consideration  of  thy  long 
and  patient  waiting ;  but  one  thing  I  must  insist  upon, 
I  must  tell  my  father  at  once,  this  very  day;  on  this 
point  I  am  determined." 

For  a  moment  Essylt  turned  upon  him  with  a  flash 
of  temper  in  her  eyes;  she  stared  at  him  as  if  in  a 
dream,  and  then  suddenly,  as  a  flame  goes  out  in  a 
lamp,  the  life  and  spirit  faded  from  her  face,  and  with 
a  strange,  broken  weariness  in  her  voice,  she  answered, 
"  Do  as  thou  pleasest,  Maychael — it  will  make  no  dif- 
ference," and  she  walked  on  as  if  in  a  sorrowful,  more 
than  a  sullen  mood. 

There  was  no  denying  that  Michael  felt  disheart- 
ened and  miserable.  He  was  bravely  resolved  to  carry 
out  his  promise  to  Essylt,  as  any  honourable  man 
would  be,  but  it  seemed  to  him  that  she  was  doing  all 
she  could  to  make  his  path  hard  and  thorny.  He  still 
felt  tenderly  towards  the  girl,  who  had  been  his  play- 
mate and  friend,  but  if  any  sentiment  of  romance  had 
lingered  hitherto  in  his  feelings  towards  her,  it  died 
out  that  day,  as  they  walked  through  the  Meivon 
woods  side  by  side,  yet  divided  as  the  poles  asunder. 


CHAPTER   VI 

PHIL-Y-VELIN  had  finished  his  day's  work,  and  was 
taking  a  moment's  well-earned  rest  before  he  closed 
the  mill  door. 

The  clap  of  the  mill  wheel  had  ceased,  and  the 
rushing  of  the  stream  had  changed  to  a  dropping 
trickle  when  the  square  of  sunshine  on  the  dusty  floor 
was  suddenly  darkened  by  a  shadow. 

"  Hallo,  Maychael,  machgen-i!  "  said  the  miller.  "  I 
am  glad  to  see  thee,  in  my  deed;  there's  something 
wrong  in  my  'counts,  that  I  can't  find  out;  thou'lt 
help  me  out  with  it  after  tea  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes !  We'll  soon  put  that  right,"  said  Michael 
in  a  voice  which  he  tried  to  make  as  cheerful  as  usual, 
but  in  the  ring  of  it  there  was  something  which  the 
old  man's  quick  ear  detected. 

"What  is  the  matter,  my  lad?  something  vexing 
thee?" 

"  No,  nothing,"  said  Michael,  sitting  down  on  the 
steps  of  the  grain  loft. 

"Oh,  that's  right;  and  how  are  things  going  with 
thee  ?  When  is  Dr.  Rees  coming  back  ?  " 

"  Next  week,  I  think." 

"  Well,  indeed,  the  longer  he  stops  the  better  for 
me,  since  thou  sayest  thou  art  going  away  as  soon  as 
he  comes  home." 

"  Only  for  three  months." 

"  That's  true ;  but  a  great  deal  can  happen  in  three 
months." 

"  That's  true,  too,"  said  Michael,  and  then  a  little 

79 


80  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

silence  fell  upon  them  both,  the  old  man  increasingly 
conscious  of  something  unusual  in  his  son's  manner. 

"I  passed  by  the  mill  late  last  night,  father,"  said 
the  latter,  "  but  all  was  dark  here ;  you  were  fast 
asleep,  I  expect,  for  'twas  between  eleven  and  twelve." 

"  Where  hadst  been  so  late,     machgen-i?  " 

"Up  at  Caefran.  We  had  tea  in  the  orchard,  and 
the  music  afterwards  kept  me  late." 

"Oh!  very  good,  my  boy,"  said  Phil,  rubbing  his 
hands  complacently.  "  I  am  always  glad  for  thee  to 
go  there;  but,  in  my  deed,  'tis  a  good  thing  thou  didst 
not  knock  me  up  that  time  of  night.  I  was  fast 
asleep,  and  dreaming.  Now  I'll  tell  thee  what  my 
dream  was  about." 

"  Well,  stop  a  bit,"  said  Michael.  "  I  have  some- 
thing real  to  tell  you,  father,  and  I  want  to  get  it  off 
my  mind,  like  a  boy  with  a  fault  to  confess." 

"Yes,  yes,  that's  it,"  said  Phil.  "I  knew  there 
was  something.  Well,  what  is  it?" 

44  Well,  father,  you  know  I  am  getting  on  in  years. 
I  am  twenty-eight.  Don't  you  think  it  is  time  for 
me  to  get  married?  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  do 
so,  whatever." 

"  Ah !  ha,  ha ! "  said  Phil,  his  whole  attitude  chang- 
ing. "  That's  right,  Maychael,  the  very  thing  I 
wanted  thee  to  do.  'Twill  brighten  thy  life,  lad,  and 
cheer  thine  evenings,  and  there  will  be  two,  instead 
of  one,  to  come  and  see  old  Phil  at  the  mill — perhaps 
? — unless,  of  course,"  and  here  his  face  fell  a  little, 
"unless  she  wouldn't  care  to  see  the  old  miller.  Well! 
never  mind,  my  boy,  I  could  hide  in  the  mill,  and  hide 
in  the  garden,  and  trouble  thee  no  more  than  if  I  lived 
in  America.  So  long  as  thou  art  happy,  my  boy, 
that's  all  I  care  for." 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  81 

At  these  words  Michael  flushed  a  deep  red,  and  it 
took  all  the  strength  of  his  manhood  to  control  his 
feelings,  as  he  realised  his  old  father's  readiness  to 
efface  himself  for  the  sake  of  the  son  who  was  about  to 
wound  him  so  sorely.  Nevertheless,  he  felt  he  must 
make  the  plunge,  he  must  tell  the  bare  facts,  or  break 
down  completely. 

"  Father,"  he  said,  "  it  is  Essylt  whom  I  have  chosen 
for  my  wife." 

There  was  a  moment's  dead  silence,  broken  only  by 
the  trickle  of  the  stream,  and  the  cawing  of  the  rooks. 

At  last  Michael  looked  at  his  father,  and  saw  that 
his  usually  ruddy  face  had  paled;  he  was  wiping  his 
forehead  with  his  red  cotton  handkerchief,  and  star- 
ing blankly  at  the  boarded  floor. 

"  Essylt !  "  he  said  at  last ;  "  my  boy  Maychael  go- 
ing to  marry  Essylt  of  the  Mill-tail!  for  God's  sake, 
man,  is  this  a  joke  that  thou  art  telling  me?  for,  in 
my  deed,  I  say  to  thee,  Maychael,  'tis  no  joke  to  me." 

"A  joke!  no,  it  is  the  truth,  father.  Eight  years 
ago,  when  I  was  twenty,  and  she  was  but  a  lass  of  six- 
teen, I  asked  her  to  marry  me,  and  to  wait  until  I  had 
made  my  way  in  the  world,  and  was  able  to  keep  a 
wife  and  a  home.  For  eight  years  she  has  waited  pa- 
tiently. These  are  solid  facts,  and  now  the  time  has 
come  when  I  must  fulfil  mp  promise.  What  else  can 
I  do?  You  taught  me  as  a  boy  that  he  who  swears  to 
his  own  hurt  even,  as  the  psalm  says,  must  keep  his 
word." 

"  Did  I  teach  thee  that  if  a  man  made  a  promise 
to  do  wrong  he  was  to  keep  that  promise  because  a 
woman  waited  eight  years  for  him  to  do  it?  Did  I 
teach  thee  that?  Then  the  fruit  of  it  is  bitter  in  my 
mouth.  But  I  never  did." 


82  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

To  this  Michael  answered  not  a  word,  but  looked 
down  at  the  dusty  floor.  Phil  himself  seemed  strangely 
subdued;  he  was  generally  hasty  and  irritable,  firing 
up  at  any  annoyance,  but  quickly  subsiding  into  good- 
nature again.  To-night  his  brooding  silence  affected 
Michael  more  than  any  storming  could  have  done. 
But  he  was  mistaken  if  he  thought  his  father  was  go- 
ing to  take  his  announcement  calmly,  for  the  old  man's 
voice  trembled  with  suppressed  passion  when  at  last 
he  broke  the  silence. 

"  It  depends  upon  the  promise,  Maychael.  If  eight 
years  ago  thou  offeredst  to  marry  a  woman  who  was 
unsuited  to  thee,  thou  wouldst  be  a  fool,  and  worse 
than  a  fool,  to  keep  that  promise  to-day,  when  thine 
eyes  are  opened,  and  thou  seest  thy  mistake." 

He  had  kept  his  anger  in  check  hitherto,  but  it 
burst  out  now  with  uncontrollable  violence.  "  Damn 
thy  selfish  impudence,  to  dare  to  come  here,  after  all 
my  toiling,  and  saving  for  thee,  to  tell  me,  after  all, 
that  thou  art  going  to  marry  Essylt  of  the  Mill-tail, 
that  for  eight  years  thou  hast  been  fooling  thy  old 
father,  and  courting  a  girl  who  is  only  fit  to  black 
thy  shoes ! " 

"  Father ! "  said  Michael ;  but  it  was  impossible  to 
stem  the  torrent  of  the  old  man's  wrath. 

"  Marry  her  if  thou  wilt,"  he  continued,  "  but  I  will 
never  receive  her  as  a  daughter,  nor  own  thee  as  a  son 
— a  sleepy,  idle  croten,  who  would  be  in  rags  but  for 
Peggy's  charity!  There's  a  wife  for  Maychael  Lloyd! 
the  man  who  has  got  on  so  well  in  London ;  the  man 
who  writes  books,  and  whose  name  is  so  often  in  the 
doctors'  newspapers  !  Ach-y-$l  art  mad,  man !  " 

"  No,"  said  Michael,  "  I  am  not  mad,  father.  I 
am  in  my  right  senses.  My  duty  is  clear  and  plain 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  83 

before  me,  and  I  can  see  no  way  of  escape  from  it, 
without  behaving  in  a  dishonourable  manner.  For 
eight  long  years  that  girl  has  waited  for  me,  and  has 
been  faithful  to  me.  Would  you  have  me  break  my 
word  to  her  now?  Would  you  have  me  cast  her  off, 
and  say,  *  Go  thy  way,  I  am  tired  of  thee ;  thy  long 
waiting  counts  for  nothing,  for  I  have  risen  higher 
than  thee,  and  I  have  changed  my  mind'?  Would 
that  conduct  be  worthy  of  Philip  Lloyd's  son,  who  has 
prided  himself  on  never  breaking  his  word  or  telling  a 
lie?  " 

"  Yes,  it  would,"  roared  the  old  man ;  "  it  would  be 
more  worthy  than  to  say,  '  Come,  Essylt  of  the  Mill- 
tail,  let  us  be  married.  I  will  keep  my  word  to  thee, 
though  my  eyes  are  opened,  and  I  see  that  thou  art 
not  suited  to  me  nor  I  to  thee,  that  I  shall  drag  my- 
self down  in  every  wise  man's  opinion,  that  I  will  be  a 
miserable  man;  that  I  will  break  the  heart  of  my  old 
father ;  but  never  mind !  a  fig  for  them  all !  never  mind 
my  old  father!  let  us  go  and  be  married,  and  never 
mind  the  rest.'  Essylt,  indeed ! "  he  cried,  bringing 
his  closed  fist  down  with  a  resounding  thump  on  an 
empty  beer-barrel,  while  Michael,  more  affected  than 
he  cared  to  show,  got  off  the  steps  that  he  had  been 
standing  on  and  walked  up  and  down  the  mill  floor, 
his  hands  clasped  behind  him,  his  head  thrown  back  as 
if  to  face  the  brunt  of  a  storm. 

"  Dost  know  who  she  is?  Dost  know  who  her  father 
was  ?  " 

"  Not  I,  indeed,"  said  Michael,  continuing  to  pace 
up  and  down.  "  I  have  never  asked.  We  don't  often 
look  into  the  parentage  of  the  stray  children  who  come 
into  village  life  here;  no,  I  have  never  inquired,  nor 
thought  of  such  a  thing." 


84  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  Listen,  thou  fool,  and  learn  whom  thou  hast 
chosen  for  a  wife  and  to  be  the  mother  of  thy  children. 
Dost  remember  Will  Porthrhian  ?  " 

"  I  have  heard  of  him,  of  course,"  said  Michael 
wearily,  "  the  man  who  waylaid  and  robbed  old 
Dafydd  Jones  of  Dolissa,  and  left  him  for  dead  on  the 
road?" 

"  Yes,  and  was  transported  for  it.  I  tell  thee  that 
Essylt  was  Will  Porthrhian's  bastard  child — the 
mother  died,  and  Peggy  went  to  Glamorganshire  to 
fetch  the  child,  for  the  mother  was  related  to  her  some- 
how. Nobody  here,  except  myself  and  Peggy,  knows 
about  this,  and  we  have  never  let  it  out,  because  we 
thought  it  might  injure  the  girl;  for  we  were  afraid 
no  lad  in  the  village,  or  in  the  neighbourhood,  would 
marry  her;  and  now  'tis  she,  that  blackguard's  child, 
that  my  son  Maychael  is  to  bring  to  me  as  a  daughter- 
in-law." 

"  Father ! "  said  Michael,  seating  himself  once  more 
on  the  grain-loft  stairs,  "is  this  true?  'Tis  dreadful! 
What  shall  I  do?" 

The  old  man,  who  had  worked  himself  to  a  pitch  of 
uncontrollable  anger,  stopped  suddenly — his  voice 
broke,  his  words  came  almost  in  tender  pleading. 
"  Listen  to  me,  lad,  and  let  me  tell  thee  my  dream  last 
night  when  thou  wert  passing  the  mill.  I  was  dream- 
ing of  thee.  I  thought  'twas  thy  wedding-day,  and 
the  people  were  flocking  up  to  Llangerwn  Church  to 
see  the  wedding.  There  were  ribbons  and  flags  flying, 
and  flowers  all  over  the  place,  and  garlands  across  the 
road,  and  thou  wentest  up  to  the  church,  Maychael, 
bonny  and  happy,  and  the  people  stood  upon  the 
hedge  to  see  the  bride  passing."  As  he  proceeded,  his 
voice  was  broken  and  trembling,  and  he  held  out  his 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  85 

hand  towards  Michael,  who  stopped  in  his  pacing  and 
clasped  the  outstretched  hand — "  and  then  the  bride 
came,  all  blushing  with  happiness  and  love,  and  who 
was  it,  Maychael,  but  little  Miss  from  Caefran."  He 
gulped  down  a  sob,  and  Michael  wrung  his  hand. 
"  'Twas  only  a  dream,  my  boy ;  forgive  thy  old 
father's  folly." 

"  'Twas  only  a  dream,  father,"  said  Michael  in  a 
low  voice,  that  was  not  as  steady  as  usual,  "  only  a 
dream ;  let  us  try  and  forget  it,  and  turn  to  facts. 
What  you  have  told  me  is,  I  suppose,  a  fact.  Essylt 
does  not  know  it,  does  she?  " 

"No,  Peggy  has  never  told  her;  nobody  knows  it 
but  Peggy  and  I.  Think  well  what  thou  art  going  to 
do ;  but  one  thing  I  tell  thee,  that  if  thou  marry 
Essylt  of  the  Mill-tail,  then  old  Phil-y-Velin  must  be  a 
stranger  to  thee.  Never,  Maychael,  while  the  waves 
are  flowing,  never  while  the  trees  are  growing,  will  I 
receive  that  croten  as  my  daughter.  I  have  said  my 
last  word,"  and  rising,  he  went  out  hastily,  leaving 
Michael  more  troubled  and  disturbed  in  mind  than  he 
had  ever  been  before.  What  should  he  do?  He  had 
been  fully  aware  of  all  the  disadvantages  which  a  mar- 
riage with  Essylt  would  entail  before  his  interview 
with  his  father;  but  now  the  startling  revelations  had 
added  tenfold  to  the  difficulties  that  surrounded  his 
path.  What  of  that?  Not  all  his  father's  indigna- 
tion, nor  his  own  bitter  regrets,  could  alter  the  fact 
that  he  was  bound  to  Essylt  by  every  tie  of  honour. 

Here  were  the  firstfruits  of  his  indiscretion.  A  break 
with  his  old  father?  a  coldness,  a  difference  between 
them — impossible;  and  hastily  following  the  old  man, 
he  turned  round  the  corner  of  the  mill,  and  entered  the 
cosy  living-room,  where  Phil  was  already  seated  at  the 


86  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

table,  drumming  on  it  with  his  fingers,  his  thoughts 
anywhere  but  on  the  viands  before  him. 

"  Father,"  he  said,  "  I  am  come  in  to  have  tea  with 
you,"  and  he  took  his  usual  place  at  the  rough  oak 
table.  "  To  quarrel  with  you  would  be  misery  to  me." 

"It  will  be  more  than  that  to  me,  my  boy,  'twill  be 
death;  but  you  have  my  last  word,"  he  added,  while 
Michael  silently  poured  out  the  tea. 

Through  the  window  the  curve  of  the  Caefran  drive 
was  visible,  and  happening  to  look  that  way  the  miller 
exclaimed,  "Who  is  this  coming  down  the  hill?  'Tis 
Muster  Tom,  running  like  a  mad  man,"  and  Michael, 
snatching  his  hat,  was  up  in  a  moment,  and  out  at  the 
door  to  meet  him. 

"What  is  it,  Tom?     What  is  it?"  he  cried. 

"  My  mother !  "  said  Tom  breathlessly.  "  Barbara 
is  frightened  to  death.  Come  up,  doctor,  for  God's 
sake,  to  help  us !  " 

"  Yes,  of  course,  at  once,"  said  Michael ;  "  but  I 
must  first  go  to  the  surgery.  You  go  back ;  I  will  ride 
the  mare,  and  be  with  you  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour," 
and  Tom  hurried  back  up  the  drive  alone,  to  find  Bar- 
bara eagerly  waiting  for  him. 

"He's  coming  at  once,"  he  said,  and  together  they 
waited  and  watched,  endeavouring  with  soothing  and 
cheering  words  to  encourage  the  trembling  woman, 
who  shrank  in  nervous  dread  from  the  terrible  ordeal 
which  she  saw  before  her. 

"Oh,  must  I  bear  it  again,  Barbara?"  she  cried 
between  her  sobs ;  "  not  that  dreadful  agony  again ! 
Oh,  pray  God  to  let  me  die  rather !  "  But  there  is  no 
staying  the  laws  of  nature;  they  must  take  their 
course,  though  our  hearts  faint,  and  our  hands  im- 
plore. 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  87 

At  last  there  was  the  sound  of  hoofs  on  the  drive, 
and  immediately  afterwards  a  step  on  the  stairs,  and 
Michael  entered,  and  not  a  moment  to  soon,  for  al- 
ready the  tender  form  was  struggling  in  the  grip  of 
the  fierce  paroxysm  of  pain,  which  would  have  tried 
to  the  utmost  a  strong  man's  power  of  endurance,  and 
to  a  fragile  woman's  frame  was  as  the  torture  of  the 
rack,  and  to  those  who  loved  her,  and  was  obliged  to 
look  on,  a  cruel  martyrdom. 

Once  more  that  terrible  scene  was  enacted,  upon 
which  we  were  formerly  compelled  to  close  the  door, 
and  from  which  we  are  again  thankful  to  turn 
away. 

With  steady  hand  Michael  poured  out  of  a  small 
phial  a  few  drops  of  colourless  liquid,  which  he  ad- 
ministered to  the  sufferer.  In  a  few  moments,  that  to 
Barbara  appeared  like  an  hour,  the  lines  of  pain  grad- 
ually disappeared,  and  the  spent  frame  fell  into  that 
heavy  stupor  which  is  the  blessed  relief,  as  well  as  the 
result,  of  acute  pain.  There  was  nothing  more  to  be 
done  but  to  leave  the  recuperating  forces  of  nature  to 
do  the  rest. 

Barbara  had  borne  herself  with  a  courage  and  for- 
titude that  astonished  Michael;  but  now,  worn  out 
with  the  cruel  tension,  she  turned  to  Tom,  and  throw- 
ing her  arms  round  his  neck,  gave  way  to  a  passionate 
burst  of  tears.  With  the  usual  kindly  but  unmean- 
ing formula  of  "  Don't  cry,  dear,"  he  clasped  his  arms 
round  her;  but  Barbara  did  cry;  a  torrent  of  tears 
came  to  her  relief,  and  Michael,  moved  to  the  heart, 
went  quietly  out  of  the  room.  Before  going,  he  waved 
his  hand  towards  Tom,  who  nodded  silently  over  Bar- 
bara's bowed  head. 

Once  again  she  took  her  place  on  the  low  footstool 


88  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

by  the  bedside  to  wait — to  watch.  Once  more  Peggy, 
in  faithful  attendance,  walked  in  and  out  in  her  stock- 
inged feet,  while  Tom,  miserable  and  restless,  ran  hast- 
ily out  to  catch  the  doctor,  to  question  him  further 
about  his  mother's  illness,  and  to  hear  once  more  the 
inexorable  fiat  that  these  paroxysms  must  return  more 
and  more  frequently,  and  at  last  terminate  in  her 
death.  Was  it  any  wonder  that  when  Michael  was 
gone,  Tom  returned  to  the  sick-room  with  a  stricken 
face,  which  he  endeavoured  to  hide  from  Barbara;  and 
thus  they  watched  all  through  the  night. 

In  the  early  morning  Essylt,  summoned  by  Peggy, 
appeared.  Since  Mrs.  Owen's  first  attack  she  had 
made  herself  almost  indispensable  at  Caefran,  appar- 
ently pleased  to  take  her  share  of  the  household  work, 
so  as  to  leave  Barbara  at  liberty  to  devote  her  time 
entirely  to  her  mother. 

What  gratification  it  could  have  given  her  to  wit- 
ness the  troubled  atmosphere  which  had  fallen  upon 
the  once  peaceful  household  of  Caefran  it  would  be 
difficult  to  say,  except  that  it  enabled  her  to  see  for 
herself  how  the  ploughshare  of  sorrow  furrowed  the  re- 
served and  proud  nature  of  the  girl  whom  she  had  al- 
ways looked  upon  with  envy  and  jealousy;  the  brow 
contracted  by  sorrow,  the  fading  of  the  pale  arose 
cheek,  the  dark  shadows  under  the  eyes — all  these  she 
noted.  "  'Tis  only  fair,"  she  thought.  "  Why  should 
I  have  all  the  bitterness,  and  she  only  the  sweets,  I'd 
like  to  know,  ach-y-$l  She's  having  a  taste  of  the 
bitter  now,  whatever." 

Even  when,  at  Peggy's  suggestion,  she  carried  the 
refreshing  cup  of  tea  to  the  sick-room,  she  watched 
Barbara  keenly.  Nothing  escaped  the  vigilance  of 
those  sleepy  eyes,  and  Barbara  would  reproach  her- 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  89 

self  for  the  shrinking  feeling  of  distrust  of  the  girl, 
which  she  failed  entirely  to  banish. 

Not  a  corner  of  the  old  rambling  house  that  Essylt 
did  not  make  herself  acquainted  with.  She  peeped 
into  cupboards,  moved  cushions  and  covers  which  hid 
the  torn  and  frayed  condition  of  the  furniture,  and 
returned  to  her  work  as  though  she  had  only  absented 
herself  to  perform  some  necessary  duty.  The  dress 
cupboard,  in  Mrs.  Owen's  bedroom,  she  specially  ap- 
proved of,  as  here  she  could  hide  herself  whenever  she 
chose.  Through  a  small  window  in  the  door  she  would 
often  watch  Barbara's  tender  devotion  to  her  mother, 
without  a  shadow  of  pity  or  sympathy,  but  with  a 
strong  feeling  that  at  last  the  scales  of  Justice  were 
evenly  balanced. 

As  fate  would  have  it,  however,  she  was  not  at 
Caefran  to-day;  for,  as  we  have  seen,  she  had  stayed 
at  home  to  weed  in  the  mill  garden  at  Phil-y-Velin's 
request. 

When  Michael,  having  left  Tom  and  Barbara  to 
themselves  and  to  their  own  sorrow,  began  his  way 
down  the  moss-grown  drive,  he  let  the  bridle  drop 
loosely  on  Fanny's  curb,  and  fell  into  a  fit  of  brooding 
thought,  and  a  host  of  doubts  and  perplexities  which 
had  kept  aloof  while  he  had  been  engrossed  in  his  at- 
tentions to  his  patient  crowded  upon  his  mind. 

Tom's  disturbing  statements,  what  could  they  mean? 
The  further  revelations  made  by  his  father  of  Es- 
sylt's  birth  and  parentage  weighed  heavily  upon  his 
mind  too.  Was  there,  after  all,  something  hidden  and 
secret  in  the  girl's  life,  as  those  veiled  eyes  and  that 
mocking  smile  suggested?  Was  he  called  upon  to 
crush  his  own  feelings  and  to  stifle  the  tenderest  sen- 
timents of  his  heart,  in  order  to  marry  a  girl  who  was 


90  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

not  only  far  below  him  in  knowledge  and  refinement, 
but  was  also  deceiving  him  as  to  the  straightforward 
simplicity  of  her  life  and  character?  Then,  alas!  too 
clearly  vivid,  rose  before  him  a  vision  of  Barbara's 
open,  guileless  face — the  delicate  complexion,  the  deep 
brown  eyes  that  looked  so  truthfully  into  his.  Would 
that  he  could  stay  with  her  and  mitigate  as  far  as  hu- 
man skill  would  permit  the  terrible  suffering  which 
was  in  store  for  both  mother  and  daughter!  But  at 
this  point,  as  he  had  done  a  hundred  times  of  late, 
he  laid  a  sudden  curb  upon  his  thoughts. 

He  recalled  his  promise  to  Essylt  of  eight  years 
ago — the  promise  repeated  many  times,  even  so  late 
as  yesterday.  The  cold  grey  cloud  fell  over  him  again, 
as  he  realised  that  for  him  there  was  no  escape,  ex- 
cept by  a  dishonourable  evasion  of  his  duty,  and  this 
the  whole  tenor  of  his  mind  revolted  at.  No,  no — 
away  with  dreams!  He  must  face  the  stern,  irrevoca- 
ble facts  of  life,  and  here  was  the  old  mill  with  its 
quaint  ivied  gables  clearly  marked  against  the  dark- 
ening sky! 

Alighting,  he  hooked  his  bridle  on  to  the  mill  door, 
and  turning  round  the  corner,  entered  the  house, 
where  Phil  was  sitting  on  the  settle  smoking  and  ap- 
parently watching  the  sparks  that  flew  up  the  chim- 
ney. His  supper  lay  before  him  untouched;  but  as 
Michael  entered  he  made  a  feint  of  turning  to  the 
table. 

"  Father,"  said  Michael,  sitting  down,  and  drawing 
the  brown  loaf  towards  him,  "  our  tea  was  a  miserable 
failure.  I  have  not  tasted  bite  nor  sup  since  middle- 
day,  so  here. I  am  again  in  my  old  place;  for,  look 
here,"  and  he  tapped  with  his  finger  on  the  table, 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  91 

"  dark  clouds  seem  gathering  round  me,  and  I  am 
hedged  in  with  difficulties.  Like  the  grain  that  you 
pour  into  the  mill  trough,  there  seems  but  one  channel 
through  which  I  must  pass.  'Twill  grind  me  to  pow- 
der, but  perhaps,  like  the  meal,  I  shall  come  out  all 
right  at  the  other  end.  Only  one  thing  I  see  plainly, 
father,  nothing  must  ever  come  between  you  and  me. 
I  am  going  away  soon — for  three  months  at  least — 
let  things  be  till  I  come  back  as  if  I  had  never  spoken 
to  you.  For  three  months  be  the  same  to  me  as  you 
have  ever  been — the  best,  the  most  unselfish  father 
in  the  world,  and  then,  if  it  must  be,  you  will  turn 
away  from  me,  but  /  will  never  turn  away  from  you, 
so  we  cannot  be  really  separated." 

"  Well,"  said  Phil,  "  take  your  supper,  machgen-l. 
I  am  willing — for  three  months.  Be  the  same  to  me 
as  thou  hast  always  been,  a  good  son  and  true.  God 
knows  how  my  heart  would  hunger  for  thee;  but  when 
that  time  has  passed,  well!  thou  hast  had  my  last 
word  about  it,"  and  filling  the  blue,*  which  stood  on 
the  table  beside  the  brown  jug,  he  pushed  it  towards 
Michael. 

"What's  the  matter  at  Caefran?"  he  asked. 

"  Oh !  'tis  poor  Mrs.  Owen  has  had  another  bad  at- 
tack of  pain.  She's  better  now ;  'tis  over  for  the  time ; 
but  I  fear  there's  a  terrible  trial  before  them." 

"  Dear,  dear ! "  said  Phil,  "  there's  a  pity,  and  thou 
going  away  just  when  thou  art  wanted!" 

"Yes,  'tis  part  of  the  grinding,  father,"  and 
Michael  laughed  a  hard,  mirthless  laugh,  which 

*  A  kind  of  cup  between  a  glass  and  a  pint,  which  although 
still  in  vogue  in  Welsh  country  districts,  is  not  of  standard 
measure. 


92  UNDER    THE    THATCH 

sounded  so  strange  and  unnatural  that  Phil  looked 
at  him  curiously,  and  as  he  turned  to  resume  his  pipe 
by  the  log  fire,  he  sighed,  and  this  was  so  unusual  for 
Phil  that  Michael  looked  at  him  uneasily,  and  for  the 
first  time  in  their  lives  a  little  cloud  settled  down  be- 
tween them  both,  on  the  old  home  hearth. 


CHAPTER    VII 

DURING  the  week  that  followed  Mrs.  Owen  recovered 
sufficiently  to  be  carried  downstairs  again,  and  to  lie 
quietly  on  her  couch,  while  Barbara  moved  about  with 
an  assumed  cheerfulness,  which  hid  completely  from 
her  mother  the  anxious  fears  that  filled  her  heart. 

With  untiring  care  she  watched  every  mood  of  the 
invalid,  so  as  to  forestall  her  slightest  wish — almost, 
it  seemed,  as  if  her  very  being  were  merged  in  that  of 
the  mother  she  loved  so  well. 

Michael's  visits  were  the  one  bright  spot  in  the  day 
for  Mrs.  Owen,  and  to  Barbara  too ;  they  were  like 
the  gleam  of  light  that  falls  upon  the  turmoil  of  a 
stormy  sea.  For  in  his  presence  her  mother  seemed 
to  gather  strength,  and  to  regain  her  vitality  in  a 
marvellous  degree,  so  that  she  dreaded  each  day  to 
hear  the  words,  "  To-morrow  I  must  go."  She  had 
forgotten  her  shrinking  fear  of  the  peasant-doctor, 
or,  if  she  sometimes  recalled  it,  it  was  with  a  smile 
of  wonderment. 

"  What  shall  we  do  when  Dr.  Lloyd  is  gone  ?  I  wish 
he  wouldn't  go,  Barbara,"  said  Mrs.  Owen  one  morn- 
ing, when  the  wind  was  roaring  in  the  pine  trees  at 
the  back  of  the  house,  for  autumn  had  made  a  sudden 
step  in  advance.  "Oh,  beg  of  him  to  stay." 

"How  can  I  do  that,  mother  dear?  for  I  know  it  is 
impossible.  He  would  stay  if  he  could,  but  he  has 
promised  to  lecture  at  some  hospital  in  London,  and 
I  should  think,  from  the  announcement  in  a  medical 
paper  which  Tom  showed  me,  that  his  opinion  must  be 
considered  of  some  importance." 

93 


94  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  Oh,  I'm  sure,  I'm  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Owen ;  "  he's 
so  clever  and  so  strong,  and  so  sympathetic,  Barbara." 

"  Yes;  I  suppose  we  are  no  judges  of  his  cleverness, 
but  he's  certainly  strong  and — very  kind;  it  is  about 
time  for  his  visit." 

Meanwhile,  Michael  was  riding  up  the  drive.  A 
cold  east  wind  had  risen,  and  through  the  beech  wood 
on  the  right  it  blew  in  threatening  gusts,  whirling  the 
dead  leaves  across  his  path,  and  swaying  the  branches 
until  they  bent  and  creaked  as  he  rode  beneath  them. 
The  sky  was  blue  and  clear,  and  the  autumn  sun  was 
gilding  the  fields  and  trees  across  the  valley  as  he 
drew  near  Caefran.  The  gate  had  swung  open  with 
the  wind;  he  looked  through  it  across  the  garden  to- 
wards the  orchard,  and  could  scarcely  realise  that  but 
a  week  had  gone  by  since  he  had  sat  there  under  the 
rosy-cheeked  apples,  Barbara  close  beside  him,  Mrs. 
Owen  and  Tom  too,  all  unconscious  of  the  dark  cloud 
hanging  over  them.  The  serene  sky  above  them ;  the 
scent  of  the  flowers  around  them;  and  afterwards  the 
tender  strains  of  the  music!  How  should  they  fore- 
cast the  coming  storm?  But  to-day  he  felt  as  if  he 
had  come  to  the  parting  of  the  ways,  when  he  must  go 
forward  to  face  the  difficulties,  and  must  leave  Bar- 
bara to  bear  her  troubles  alone. 

He  turned  towards  the  stables,  where  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  put  up  his  horse  without  waiting  for  Peggy's 
help,  and  with  all  the  signs  of  commonplace  life  around 
him — the  buckets,  the  manger,  the  hens  clucking  in  the 
hayloft;  behind  and  through  them  all  he  was  con- 
scious of  a  musical  refrain,  reproduced  by  brain  and 
heart.  "  Oh,  memory !  when  all  things  fail ! " 
"  Tush ! "  he  exclaimed  impatiently,  as  he  crossed  the 
yard  to  the  front  of  the  house,  and  no  one  would  have 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  95 

guessed  that  that  broad-shouldered  man,  with  the  firm 
step  and  the  resolute  manner,  had  harboured  a  thought 
of  sentiment.  He  looked  the  very  embodiment  of 
strength  and  self-reliance  as  he  entered  the  old-fash- 
ioned room,  where  Barbara,  sitting  by  her  mother's 
couch,  was  trying  to  cheer  her  with  pleasant  chat  upon 
the  trivial  incidents  of  the  neighbourhood. 

"Of  course,  mother  dear,  we  must  let  Peggy  go  for 
an  hour  or  two  to  see  Jane  Tyissa ;  she  has  the  jaun- 
dice, they  say,  and  has  a  bottle  of  such  nasty  medicine, 
that  Peggy  is  longing  to  taste  it.  You  know  she 
never  fails  to  taste  everybody's;  and  while  she's  about 
it,  she  takes  a  good  dose,  and  so  saves  herself  the  ex- 
pense of  a  doctor!  Indeed,  indeed,  mother  dear,  it  is 
true !  Sometimes  she  goes  to  two  or  three  sick  people 
in  the  day,  and  tastes  the  medicine  at  every  bedside, 
and  that  is  how  she  keeps  well,  she  thinks." 

Mrs.  Owen  smiled  languidly,  and  Barbara  taxed  her 
brain  for  another  subject  of  sufficient  interest  to  keep 
the  invalid's  mind  from  dwelling  on  her  own  sad 
state. 

The  constant  effort  to  amuse  and  to  entertain  was 
a  severe  strain  upon  her  nervous  energy,  for  her  lips 
had  to  wear  a  smile  while  her  heart  was  aching.  Never- 
theless, it  was  a  labour  of  love  to  her,  so  she  knew  not 
how  it  was  sapping  her  strength  away,  knew  not  that 
every  day  her  delicate  face  grew  more  ethereal,  her 
eyes  more  sadly  thoughtful,  her  mobile  lips  more  ready 
to  tremble  with  feeling. 

But  Michael  saw  it  all,  and  felt  that  here,  if  any- 
where, his  medical  skill,  his  sympathy,  his  help,  were 
required,  and  yet  here  he  must  not  stay,  for  not  only 
the  exigencies  of  his  profession,  but  a  hundred  other 
reasons  also,  pointed  with  stern  finger  to  the  neces- 


96  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

sity  for  leaving  Cwm  Meivon  and  Caefran,  where  every 
day,  as  it  passed,  made  the  path  of  duty  more  hard 
to  tread. 

Mrs.  Owen  received  him  with  unaffected  pleasure; 
indeed,  with  such  evident  dependence  upon  his  help, 
that  what  he  had  to  say  that  day  seemed,  more  than 
ever  difficult  to  him. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "you  know  I  am  going  away  next 
week;  that  I  shall  be  leaving  you  in  good  hands,  for 
Dr.  Rees  says  he  is  probably  coming  home  on  Monday 
— the  very  day  I  go." 

"  Oh !  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  moaned  Mrs.  Owen,  clasp- 
ing her  hands  with  a  little  wail  of  self-pity;  for,  as 
we  have  seen,  she  was  no  heroine.  "  Oh,  Dr.  Lloyd, 
stay  with  me,  I  beseech  you.  What  if  that  terrible 
pain  were  to  come  again?  Poor  Barbara  wouldn't 
know  what  to  do.  Oh,  for  her  sake,  stay ! " 

"  For  her  sake."  The  words  touched  him  closely ; 
but  neither  his  face  nor  his  voice  showed  any  sign  of 
his  having  noticed  the  appeal;  neither  did  Barbara's, 
and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  she  had  not  heard  the  re- 
mark. 

"  Dr.  Lloyd  will  tell  me  what  to  do  before  he  goes," 
she  said.  "  No  doubt  he  will  leave  directions  for  Dr. 
Rees." 

"Of  course,"  said  Michael;  but  Mrs.  Owen  con- 
tinued to  wail,  "What  shall  I  do?  what  shall  I  do?" 
and  it  was  only  an  unexpected  visit  from  Tom  that  at 
last  turned  her  thoughts  into  another  channel. 

"  Well,"  said  Michael  at  last,  "  I  must  really  go, 
as  I  have  several  other  patients  to  visit.  To-morrow 
I  will  see  you  again,  and  every  day  till  I  leave.  Per- 
haps, Miss  Barbara,  you  wouldn't  mind  coming  with 
me  a  little  way  down  the  drive.  There  are  one  or  two 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  97 

things  I  would  like  to  tell  you,  and  now  that  Tom 
is  here,  perhaps  you  can  be  spared." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Barbara,  "Tom  is  quite  as  good  a 
nurse  as  I  am,"  and  in  a  few  moments  she  was  walk- 
ing down  the  drive  with  him.  The  wind  was  sighing 
in  the  branches  above  them ;  a  brown  mist  was  rising 
from  the  west  to  meet  it;  the  landscape  was  losing  its 
golden  light,  and  Michael  felt  as  if  that  brown  mist 
was  creeping  up  over  his  own  life. 

"'Tis  an  east  wind,"  he  said;  "I  must  not  keep  you 
out  long  in  it." 

"Oh!  it  won't  hurt  me,"  said  Barbara.  "I  used  to 
think  I  was  rather  delicate,  but  I  find  I  am  very 
strong.  I  can  bear  anything — the  hardest  thing  of 
all  that  I  could  imagine,  and  that  is  to  see  mother 
suffer,  has  come  upon  me,  and  you  see  I  can  bear  it," 
and  with  a  little  pitiful  smile  she  looked  up  at  him 
with  such  unconscious  bravery,  that  Michael  felt  his 
heart  torn  with  compassion  for  the  girl  for  whom  he 
knew  so  much  sorrow  awaited. 

"  At  least  I  am  not  a  child,  Dr.  Lloyd,  you  know 
that,"  she  said,  as  she  struggled  with  the  high  wind, 
and  smoothed  down  her  ruffled  hair.  "  Tell  me,  then, 
before  you  go — I  am  quite  strong  to  bear  it — will 
mother  get  well?  Must  she  ever  again  suffer  as  she 
has  done?  " 

The  trembling  voice,  the  wistful  eyes,  made  speech 
for  a  moment  impossible  for  Michael.  He  looked  at 
the  ground  before  him,  where  the  yellow  leaves  were 
dancing  in  the  wind. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Barbara ;  "  don't  be  afraid.  I  shall 
not  faint  nor  cry." 

"  No ;  you  are  a  brave  woman ;  but  it  grieves  me  to 
have  to  say  what  I  must.  It  would  be  no  kindness  to 


98  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

raise  your  hopes.  I  do  not  think  your  mother  will 
ever  be  well  again." 

"Will  she  suffer  more?" 

"  Yes ;  those  paroxysms  will  recur.  Would  to  God 
I  could  stay  here,  and  at  least  do  what  I  could  for 
you." 

"  But  she  cannot  bear  much  more.  This  last  at- 
tack has  nearly  killed  her.  Oh !  it  is  cruel — cruel !  " 
she  exclaimed,  clasping  her  hands. 

"  No,  she  cannot  bear  much  more,  nor  can  you,  I 
fear.  Indeed,  there  are  dark,  mysterious  passages  in 
life." 

"  Yes,"  said  Barbara,  "  when  we  have  nothing  to 
do  but  endure.  But  when  you  go,  you  will  at  least 
leave  me  that  clear  liquid  that  did  her  so  much  good  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  what  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  about," 
said  Michael.  "  Next  time  " — at  these  words  a  shud- 
der ran  through  the  girl's  frame — "  next  time — ask 
Dr.  Rees  to  administer  three  drops  before  the  par- 
oxysms become  severe,  and  three  afterwards.  I  have 
had  no  chance  of  doing  that,  but  I  think  after  my 
written  instructions  he  will  watch  his  opportunity." 

"Only  six  drops?"  said  Barbara. 

"Yes;  remember  it  is  very  strong;  half  a  teaspoon- 
ful  of  that  would  kill  her,  so  be  careful  of  it,  and  put 
the  bottle  where  Peggy  cannot  get  at  it." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Barbara,  with  a  little  wintry  smile; 
"  but  you  will  leave  it  with  me  when  you  go  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  will  bring  a  fresh  bottle." 

"  Thank  you,  then.  Good-bye,"  she  said.  "  I  must 
go  back  to  mother." 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Michael,  taking  her  hand.  "  I 
would  like  to  feel  that  you  know  how  hard  it  is  for 
me  to  leave  you  at  such  a  time." 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  99 

"  I  know,"  she  said,  and  she  raised  her  clear  brown 
eyes  to  his.  They  spoke  of  confidence,  perhaps  of 
gratitude,  and  with  these  Michael  had  perforce  to  be 
content  as  he  went  on  his  way  alone.  Reaching  the 
rusty  gate  he  looked  back,  and  saw  her  running  home- 
wards, her  brown  hair  flying  in  the  wind  behind  her. 

"I  know,"  he  said,  repeating  her  words  to  him- 
self. "  No,  indeed,  she  does  not  know."  A  few  steps 
further  on  his  way,  during  which  he  had  evidently  fol- 
lowed the  same  train  of  thought,  he  added,  "but  / 
know." 

In  September,  when  the  roads  are  dry,  when  the  au- 
tumn tints  are  beautifying  every  tree  and  hedgerow; 
when  the  thorn  bushes  are  crimson  with  haws,  and  the 
scarlet  berries  of  the  mountain-ash  flame  out  against 
the  blue  sky;  when  the  harvest  is  lying  in  golden 
swathes  across  the  fields,  then,  neither  drive  nor  ride 
is  so  delightful  as  a  brisk  walk  through  the  invigorat- 
ing air ;  the  firm  ground  under  foot ;  the  fleecy  clouds 
overhead;  the  bright  sunshine  flooding  land  and  sea. 
What  more  can  we  want  if  there  is  peace  in  the 
heart  ? 

This  was  not  exactly  the  case  with  Michael  Lloyd, 
as  he  walked  over  hill  and  dale  to  see  his  patients,  dur- 
ing the  last  few  days  of  his  stay  at  Maentrevor.  He 
was  restless  and  dissatisfied,  a  state  of  mind  that  was 
strange  and  unusual  to  him,  for  although  of  late  he 
had  come  to  look  upon  a  marriage  with  Essylt  as  a 
duty,  more  than  a  happiness,  yet  until  this  summer 
he  had  not  felt  that  duty  had  become  a  burden  to  him 
— a  lowering  cloud  that  took  the  brightness  out  of 
life. 

Now  he  walked  rather  than  rode  or  drove,  because 
the  exercise  helped  to  keep  him  from,  brooding 


100          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

thoughts ;  so  Fanny  was  left  munching  her  hay  in  the 
stable,  while  he  tramped  for  miles  round  the  district. 

It  was  late  one  evening  when  he  set  out  to  visit  a 
patient  who  lived  in  one  of  the  secluded  villages  which 
marked  the  coastline  below  Maentrevor.  His  path  lay 
along  the  seashore,  where  the  great  grey  waves  came 
tumbling  in  over  the  long  reaches  of  sand,  and  gurgled 
up  between  the  stones  and  boulders  that  bordered  the 
edge  of  the  tide.  Beyond  that  lay  a  strip  of  bare 
grassland,  which  rose  in  a  gradual  slope  to  the  high 
ridge,  behind  which  lay  the  wooded  hills  and  dales  of 
the  Meivon  valley.  In  his  boyhood  that  walk  had 
possessed  great  attractions  for  Michael,  and  no  day 
seemed  complete  without  a  visit  to  the  shore ;  not  a 
nook  nor  a  cranny  in  the  cliffs  that  he  was  not  ac- 
quainted with;  not  a  rocky  scarp  that  he  had  not 
climbed.  To-night  all  the  old  memories  came  crowd- 
ing in  upon  him ;  how  he  had  swum  from  yonder  point 
to  the  ship  that  lay  rocking  in  the  bay ;  how  Dafi,  and 
Will,  and  Ben  had  bathed  with  him  in  those  foaming 
breakers ;  and  later  on  how  he  had  roamed  with  Essylt 
in  the  moonlight  across  those  broad  sands,  and,  car- 
ried away  by  her  strange,  uncommon  beautiy,  had 
asked  her  to  marry  him,  and  she  had  promised  out 
there  when  the  tide  was  low.  How  well  he  recalled  it 
all  to-night  as  he  walked  under  the  gathering  twilight ! 

At  the  further  point  of  the  bay  the  little  white  vil- 
lage, towards  which  he  was  making  his  way,  came  in 
sight.  He  had  already  loitered  too  long  while  his 
thoughts  took  that  journey  into  the  past,  so  he  hur- 
ried his  steps,  and  before  long  had  reached  the  little 
harbour  at  Porthcregyn.  The  work  of  the  day  was 
over;  the  boats  safely  drawn  up  on  the  strand;  the 
red  glow  of  the  flameless  culm  fires  lighting  up  the 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          101 

tiny  windows  as  Michael  climbed  the  uneven  path  which 
meandered  between  the  irregularly  set  cottages.  At  the 
door  of  one  of  them  a  knot  of  women  stood.  "  Dear 
anwl!  there's  waiting  for  you  we've  bin,  sir,"  said 


one. 
u 


Why  so?    Is  your  mother  worse?" 

"  Well,  no,  indeed ;  she's  much  better,  whatever. 
But  Mari  Maesllan,  pwr  thing,  she's  living  over  there 
by  the  kiln.  I  don't  know  what  is  the  matter  with  her, 
but  she's  losing  her  breath  shocking." 

"  Oh !  we'll  go  and  see  if  we  can  find  it  for  her." 

"  Yes,  well,  indeed,"  said  the  woman,  "  if  you'll 
cure  her  as  quick  as  you  cured  mother,  she'll  be 
lucky." 

And  after  a  few  cheery  words  to  the  old  woman  who 
sat  in  the  chimney  corner,  he  was  ready  to  go ;  but 
at  the  doorway  he  was  waylaid  by  the  expectant  knot 
of  women,  some  of  whom  knitted  while  they  talked, 
for  they  would  not  waste  time  with  stockings  at  two 
shillings  a  pair.  Each  had  her  own  particular  ailment 
to  describe,  as  well  as  those  of  her  neighbours,  with 
the  result  that  by  the  time  Michael  had  visited  half  a 
dozen  cottages — some  of  them  quite  half  a  mile  out 
of  the  village — it  was  well  on  towards  midnight  be- 
fore he  was  free  to  begin  his  walk  back  to  Maentrevor. 

So  long  had  he  been  delayed  that  the  tide  was  fast 
covering  the  shingle,  obliging  him  to  walk  over  the 
sandy  tussocks  that  lay  above  high-water  mark.  Here, 
walking  was  slow  and  difficult,  so  that  when  he  had 
reached  but  half-way  to  the  road  which  branched  off 
to  the  town  of  Maentrevor,  he  realised  that  the  waves 
would  soon  be  careering  wildly  over  the  strand.  Com- 
ing to  a  sudden  decision,  he  turned  abruptly  to  the 
right,  and  made  his  way  towards  the  high  ridge  which 


102  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

lay  between  the  coast  and  the  Meivon  woods.  Surely 
there  would  be  a  shorter  cut  that  way  than  back  over 
the  beach  to  Maentrevor. 

Walking  steadily  upwards,  it  was  not  long  before 
he  stood  upon  the  summit  of  the  hilly  ridge,  and  here 
he  stood  to  look  around  him.  Behind  him  lay  the 
dark  broad  sea,  as  yet  untouched  by  the  light  of  the 
moon  rising  in  the  east.  Before  him,  sloping  down 
to  the  lowlands  of  the  Meivon  valley,  was  a  thick 
wood.  He  knew  it  well,  the  wood  on  whose  further 
side  lay  his  old  father's  mill,  though  it  was  full  two 
miles  away. 

It  was  late,  very  late,  but  what  mattered  it?  he 
thought.  There  was  no  one  to  wait  up  for  him  at  Dr. 
Rees's ;  they  were  used  to  late  arrivals  there,  and  the 
view  before  him  was  so  beautiful  in  the  faint  light,  that 
sitting  down,  with  his  back  to  a  rocky  boulder,  he  lost 
count  of  time. 

Across  the  valley  the  moon  was  rising  above  the 
wood  that  sloped  down  to  meet  that  above  which  he 
was  sitting.  A  few  dark  clouds  with  silver  edgings 
seemed  to  float  with  her  from  behind  the  eastern  edge 
of  the  world ;  they  gathered  round  her  as  she  rose,  but 
failed  to  dim  her  bright  effulgent  beams,  which  shone 
full  on  Michael's  face,  and  caught  the  top  of  the  high 
ridge  behind  him. 

But  down  below  him  the  woods  lay  in  shadow;  the 
solemn  stillness  unbroken  even  by  the  flutter  of  a  wing ; 
the  soft  silver  haze  that  filled  the  valley;  the  brilliant 
stars  above  him  already  paling  in  the  bright  moon- 
light; the  distant  roar  of  the  sea;  the  tiny  tinkle  of 
a  sheepbell;  all  combined  to  charm  a  mind  alive  to 
their  beauties,  and  he  fell  into  one  of  those  fits  of 
brooding  thought  which  had  become  rather  frequent 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          103 

with  him  of  late.  The  hour,  the  scene,  was  one  to  lay 
its  dreamy  spell  upon  the  senses,  and  Michael  was  not 
averse  to  surrender  himself  to  the  soothing  influence, 
so  that  it  was  a  full  hour  after  midnight  when  he  at 
last  rose  rather  abruptly,  as  if  suddenly  determined  to 
banish  a  train  of  thought  which  he  had  indulged  in 
too  long,  and  beginning  his  way  down  the  slope,  he 
entered  a  shadowy  glade.  The  ground  was  covered 
with  a  soft  carpet  of  dry  leaves,  and  as  he  descended 
towards  the  valley  he  stopped  sometimes  to  listen  to 
the  solemn  silence  that  reigned  around,  a  silence  which 
it  seemed  almost  a  desecration  to  break  by  the  sound 
of  human  footsteps. 

When  he  had  proceeded  about  two  miles  he  thought 
he  must  be  nearing  Cwm  Meivon,  for  surely  there  was 
the  trickle  of  the  stream,  which  sank  so  mysteriously 
into  Llyn  Dystaw!  Yes,  there  was  the  silver  gleam 
of  its  waters,  and  at  the  same  moment  he  was  sur- 
prised to  hear  another  footfall  in  the  wood,  coming 
towards  the  same  point  which  he  had  reached,  though 
at  a  different  angle.  Standing  still,  and  hidden  by 
the  bushes,  he  waited,  his  eyes  fixed  in  the  direction 
from  which  the  footsteps  seemed  to  be  approaching, 
and  in  the  gleam  of  the  moonlight  that  fell  through 
the  opening  of  the  treetops  he  saw  distinctly  a  wom- 
an's figure — a  slender  girl,  dressed  in  a  grey  shawl, 
which  she  wore  over  her  head  like  a  hood.  She  had 
now  reached  the  thicket,  and  was  lost  to  view,  but  he 
still  heard  her  making  her  way  through  the  obstruct- 
ing brushwood. 

A  girl  alone  in  the  woods  at  midnight!  And  with 
a  sudden  flash  of  memory  came  the  disturbing 
thought — was  it  Essylt?  Something  in  the  gait  and 
figure  certainly  resembled  her.  Was  Tom  Owen 


104  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

right,  then?  What  could  it  mean?  And  did  Essylt 
haunt  these  woods  at  night  when  the  rest  of  the  world 
was  sleeping?  All  this  he  must  inquire  of  her  next 
evening,  when  she  had  promised  to  meet  him  by  the 
lake  for  the  last  time  before  he  left  the  neighbour- 
hood. 

After  waiting  until  the  sounds  of  her  footsteps  had 
died  away,  he  followed  in  the  same  path;  and  reach- 
ing the  edge  of  the  thicket,  stooped  under  a  bramble- 
bush,  and  emerged  on  the  bank  of  the  lake.  As  he 
stooped,  he  slipped  upon  something  hard,  and  feeling 
for  it,  picked  up  a  string  of  beads — ."  Essylt's  neck- 
lace, surely,"  he  thought,  as  he  straightened  himself 
out  in  the  open,  expecting  to  find  himself  but  a  few 
yards  behind  the  grey-shawled  figure ;  but,  lo !  there 
was  no  one  to  be  seen,  only  the  ruffled  bosom  of  the 
little  tarn  reflecting  the  silver  moon,  and  the  dark 
trees  that  fringed  its  banks.  The  familiar  path  that 
followed  its  curve  towards  the  highroad,  and  the  old 
mill  were  distinctly  visible  in  the  bright  moonlight, 
but  not  a  trace  of  any  living  being  was  to  be  seen, 
and,  much  puzzled,  Michael  slipped  the  beads  into  his 
pocket,  and  turned  his  steps  towards  Maentrevor, 
leaving  the  silent  lake  behind  him,  but  carrying  with 
him  a  world  of  dissatisfaction  and  unrest. 

If  he  thought  that  the  next  night's  interview  with 
Essylt  would  clear  up  his  bewilderment,  he  was  mis- 
taken, for  she  met  his  inquiries  with  a  denial  of  any 
knowledge  of  the  midnight  roamer. 

"  Caton  Pawb!  "  she  said.  "  What  would  I  want  in 
the  Meivon  woods  in  the  middle  of  the  night?  Ach- 

y-fit 

"  And  yet,"  said  Michael,  "  I  thought  it  must  have 
been  thee,  Essylt,  for,  see!  I  picked  up  this  upon 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          105 

the  path,"  and  he  drew  from  his  pocket  her  string  of 
beads. 

Taken  off  her  guard  for  a  moment,  her  hand  flew 
to  her  neck,  in  search  of  the  familiar  necklace,  an 
action  that  made  no  impression  upon  him  at  the  time, 
but  afterwards  returning  to  his  mind,  it  forced  upon 
him  the  conviction  that  she  had  been  unaware  of  its 
absence.  "  Dear  anwl!  my  old  necklace,"  she  said ; 
"well,  indeed,  I  gave  it  to  a  gipsy  girl  yesterday,  and 
that's  all  she  cared  for  it.  Give  it  to  me,"  and, 
snatching  it  from  his  upheld  fingers,  she  flung  it  into 
the  lake.  It  disappeared  at  once,  of  course,  leaving 
only  a  few  widening  circles  round  the  spot  where  it 
had  sunk. 

"  There ! "  she  said,  with  a  fierce  little  laugh,  "  let 
the  old  thing  go — ach-y-^l  it's  been  nothing  but  a 
bother  to  me." 

"  Who  could  the  girl  with  the  grey  shawl  have  been, 
then?"  said  Michael,  looking  straight  into  her  grey 
eyes. 

"How  do  I  know?"  she  answered.  " 'Twas  thy 
fancy,  I  should  think — or,  perhaps,  'twas  the  gipsy 
girl — most  like,  indeed." 

"  Perhaps  it  was,"  said  Michael ;  but,  taking  both 
her  hands  in  his,  and  stopping  on  the  path,  lie  looked 
again  earnestly  into  her  face,  and  dropping  the  famil- 
iar "  thou,"  asked,  "  Are  you  sure,  Essylt,  that  you 
are  not  hiding  something  from  me?  " 

Essylt  could  open  those  sleepy  eyes  of  hers  some- 
times with  good  effect.  She  did  so  now,  and  returned 
Michael's  gaze  of  sorrowful  doubt  with  a  broad 
stare  of  anger.  "Hiding  something  from  you?"  she 
said  in  a  voice  that  trembled  with  passion.  "  Why 
should  I  be  obliged  to  do  that?  Must  I  tell  you 


106  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

where  I  choose  to  walk,  in  the  whole  breadth  of  Cwm 
Meivon?  I  have  never  taken  a  step  in  these  or  any 
other  woods  with  any  evil  purpose,  so  watch  me,  and 
spy  upon  me  as  much  as  you  please — 'tis  fine  work 
for  a  strong  man  to  spy  upon  a  poor,  weak  girl ! " 
Her  voice  had  risen  to  a  shrill  note  of  anger,  but  she 
suddenly  dropped  it  into  a  low,  scathing  tone,  with 
her  eyes  half  closed,  and  the  strange,  mocking  smile 
upon  her  red  lips,  she  added,  "  But  you,  Michael 
Lloyd — you — are  you  sure  you  are  not  hiding  some- 
thing from  the  woman  you  are  going  to  marry?" 

It  was  well  that  in  the  moonlight  the  flush  that  flew 
into  Michael's  face  could  not  be  seen.  He  was 
startled,  and  taken  aback  by  Essylt's  probing  ques- 
tions. 

"  Good  forbid ! "  he  said,  "  that  I  should  spy  upon 
any  man  or  woman,  and  not  for  the  world  would  I 
pry  into  your  secret  feelings.  A  man's  heart,  and  a 
woman's,  lie  open  to  God,  and  to  Him  only  are  we 
accountable  for  them,  and,  of  course,  Essylt,"  he 
added  lamely,  "  if  you  say  you  were  not  in  the  wood, 
well,  you  were  not,  that's  all." 

"Yes,  that's  all  about  it,"  said  Essylt,  smiling; 
"but,  remember  you,  Michael,  I  am  not  deceived — 'tis 
only  fools  who  are  deceived — and,  remember,  you,  I  am 
not  blind." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  are  alluding  to,"  said 
Michael  awkwardly;  "but  as  we  are  parting  to-mor- 
row, Essylt,  dost  not  think  it  foolish  to  spend  our 
last  hour  in  quarrelling?  Come,  lass,  drop  thy  angry 
tones,  and  I  will  drop  my  questions.  Come,  let  us  be 
friends  before  I  go,"  and  together  they  turned  back 
for  a  last  walk  by  the  lakeside;  and  the  girl,  as  if 
regretting  her  burst  of  anger,  tried  her  best  to  soothe 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          107 

and  charm  the  man  for  whom  she  had  waited  so  long, 
and  with  this  he  had  to  be  content — if  content  it  could 
be  called  that  kept  him  awake  for  hours  that  night, 
wondering,  doubting,  fearing,  and  then  reproaching 
himself  for  what  he  thought  must  be  ungenerous 
suspicions  of  a  simple  peasant  girl. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

WHEN  Michael  left  her  on  the  moonlit  path,  Essylt 
stood  for  some  time  silent  and  thoughtful.  The 
mocking  smile  was  gone  from  her  lips ;  lines  of  care 
and  discontent  gathered  on  her  forehead;  her  whole 
expression  was  one  of  dejection  and  gloom.  She  drew 
nearer  the  edge  of  the  lake,  and  stood  there,  looking 
down  into  its  depths.  Poor  Essylt!  alone  under  the 
night  sky,  with  all  her  heritage  of  evil  impulses  to 
battle  with!  Her  heart  was  full  of  bitter  thoughts. 
Heredity!  She  had  never  heard  the  word — knew 
nothing  of  its  meaning;  had  she  done  so  she  might 
have  had  some  clue  to  the  inner  workings  of  her  soul, 
but  as  it  was — untaught,  unblest,  she  knew  nothing 
except  that  within  her  there  was  a  surging  flood  of 
anger  against  the  whole  world,  against  what  she  con- 
sidered the  cruel  injustice  of  her  fate.  Like  Ishmael's, 
her  hand  was  against  every  man,  and  thought  that 
every  man's  hand  was  against  her. 

The  woods  were  very  still  that  night;  even  the  owls 
in  the  mill  ivy  seemed  asleep ;  only  the  little  trickle  of 
the  stream  broke  the  silence  as  the  forlorn  girl  drew 
nearer  the  edge  of  the  lake.  The  stars  glittered  on 
its  surface,  the  night  breeze  sighed  in  the  trees  that 
shadowed  it.  Everything  spoke  of  peace  and  calm — 
of  the  great  guiding  hand  that  holds  the  universe  in 
safety.  But  Essylt  felt  none  of  this,  only  the  rankling 
sense  of  anger  with  her  kind,  of  wrong  and  injustice 
meted  out  to  her,  while  others,  Barbara  for  instance, 
was  blest  with  friends,  with  wealth,  or  so  it  seemed 

108 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 

to  her,  with  health  and  happiness ;  everything  had 
been  poured  into  Barbara's  cup,  while  into  hers — 
what  ? 

So  closely  had  she  approached  the  lake  that  un- 
consciously she  had  stepped  into  the  ripples  that  broke 
on  the  little  strand.  They  wetted  her  feet,  and  she 
started  back  in  horror,  but  drew  near  again  as  if 
fascinated  by  the  silver  glitter  on  the  water. 
"  Cold ! "  she  whispered,  "  cold  and  dark,"  and  she 
shivered  as  if  she  felt  the  cold,  and,  gathering  her 
grey  shawl  tighter  around  her,  she  moved  back  slowly, 
and  following  the  curve  of  the  lake,  reached  the  head 
of  the  path  down  which  Michael  had  disappeared. 
She  looked  long  into  its  shadowy  glade  before  she 
turned  homewards,  and,  coming  in  sight  of  the  mill 
cottage,  was  surprised  to  see  a  light  in  her  own  win- 
dow, and  entering,  was  still  more  so  to  find  Peggy 
there,  sitting  alone  on  the  hearth. 

"Wher'st  been?"  she  said  sharply.  "'Tis  too  late 
for  thee  to  be  out,  and  I  coming  in  here  and  finding 
nobody  in  the  house.  Where  hast  been?" 

"  To  Maentrevor,"  said  Essylt,  "  to  buy  tea. 
'Twas  all  finished;  I  couldn't  get  my  work  done  to  go 
earlier." 

"  Trvt ,  nonsense !  Work  not  done,  indeed ;  thou  art 
getting  slower  every  day." 

Essylt's  only  answer  was  a  sweep  of  her  light  lashes 
and  a  toss  of  her  head,  as  she  hung  up  her  shawl  on 
the  rafter,  and  began  to  lay  the  supper.  "  You're  out 
late  enough  yourself  to-night,  whatever,"  she  said. 
"  'Tis  tea  I  have  for  supper.  Will  you  have  a 
cup?" 

"  I  don't  mind  if  I  do,"  said  Peggy.  "  I'm  tired 
enough  after  tramping  two  miles  to  see  Gwen  Morgan 


110  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

in  her  new  house.  Dear  anwl!  there's  a  desert  she 
lives  in  up  there  on  the  mountain-side,  so  high  up,  and 
the  wind  blowing  in  from  the  sea  till  the  hens  could 
scarcely  stand  in  the  yard.  Ach-y-fi!  'tis  peaceful 
and  quiet  in  the  woods,  and  as  I  was  passing  I  went 
in  to  see  pwr  Jos,  y  Bugail.  There's  ill  he  is !  He 
must  be  very  bad,  because  he  had  a  bottle  of  medicine 
so  strong  as  brandy,  but  in  my  deed,  I  believe  it  will 
do  him  good ;  it  warmed  me  right  through,  from  my 
head  to  my  toes.  I  wasn't  well  at  all  when  I  started 
to-day,  but  that  physic  has  done  me  good.  I  am  much 
better  whatever."  And  under  the  soothing  influence 
of  the  cup  of  tea  she  grew  more  amiable,  and  forgot 
her  annoyance  on  finding  no  one  to  welcome  her  when 
she  entered  her  own  home. 

"Who  didst  see  in  the  town?"  she  said. 

"  No  one  better  than  another,"  said  Essylt.  "  John 
Jones,  Taibach,  coming  home  from  his  ship,  and 
Michael  coming  through  the  wood — he  had  been  in 
here  to  give  us  fforwel — he's  going  to  London  to-mor- 
row." 

"Yes,  drian  bach"  said  Peggy  thoughtfully.  She 
had  finished  one  cup  of  tea,  and  was  now  holding  her 
cup  up  to  the  light,  and  critically  examining  the 
arrangement  of  the  leaves  at  the  bottom.  "  H'm ! 
here's  a  church  whatever,"  she  said,  "  with  a  pointed 
steeple,  and  here's  a  bird  flying  towards  it,  a  crow 
'tis,  too,  that's  Caefran,  no  doubt;  here's  something 
round  her  like  a  brush,  or  a  man,  or  perhaps  'tis  a 
bottle — in  my  deed  so  'tis,"  she  said  with  deep  inter- 
est, and  passing  her  cup  to  be  refilled. 

"  There's  nonsense  you're  talking,"  said  Essylt, 
"  as  if  the  old  tea-leaves  could  tell  you  the  future." 

"  Essylt,"    said    Peggy,    "  thou    wast    never    given 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          111 

much  sense,"  and  she  tapped  her  forehead  significantly, 
"  but  thou  might'st  make  use  of  the  little  thou 
hast,  merch-i.  Of  course,  the  tea-leaves  don't  know 
the  future,  but  there's  powers  in  the  air  that  do,  I'm 
thinking,  and  can't  they  make  it  plain  to  us  through 
the  tea-leaves  ?  "  And  having  thus  shown  her  superior 
wisdom,  Peggy  passed  up  her  cup  to  be  filled  for  the 
third  time  with  a  very  self-satisfied  look,  but  the  up- 
turn of  the  corners  of  the  girl's  lips  was  more  pro- 
nounced than  ever.  "Essylt,"  cried  Peggy,  as  she  fin- 
ished her  third  cup,  "  there's  got  on,  has  Maychael 
Lloyd!  In  my  deed  his  step  is  like  a  king's,  when  he 
comes  into  Caefran  passage,  and  his  voice  is  as  fine — 
finer  than  Master  Tom's,  though  he's  not  forgetting 
his  Welsh  a  bit,  oh,  no !  Maychael  Lloyd  is  too  much 
of  a  gentleman  for  that,  and  listen  thou  to  me,  lodes," 
• — and  with  a  series  of  winks,  and  knowing  jerks  of 
her  head,  she  continued — "  see  here  now,  I  wouldn't 
be  one  bit  surprised  if  some  day  we  had  a  wedding  at 
Caefran.  Wouldn't  it  be  a  grand  thing,  Essylt,  if 
our  Maychael  was  to  marry  Miss  Barbara,  vach! 
There's  a  handsome  couple  they  look  sometimes,  when 
they  are  standing  together,  and  I  am  watching  them 
in  the  corner  of  my  eye !  Diwss  anwl!  "  she  screamed 
suddenly,  as  a  crash  of  crockery  interrupted  her. 
"  The  new  teapot,  thou  careless  hussy,  what  art  think- 
ing about?  "  and  Essylt  stooped  to  pick  up  the  frag- 
ments, and  to  hide  her  face,  which  had  become  of  a 
deathly  pallor.  She  had  listened  as  patiently  as  she 
could  until  Peggy  had  reached  her  climax,  and  then, 
in  an  uncontrollable  passion,  had  flung  the  teapot  on 
the  hearth.  "It  was  an  ugly  old  thing!"  she  said. 
"  Ach-y-^.1  I  hated  it." 

"  Ugly  old  thing,  indeed !  thee  hated  it.     Well,  my 


112  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

lady,   it   cost   four  groats,   whatever,   and  thou   canst 
pay  for  the  new  one  if  thee  like'st." 

"  I  couldn't  help  it,  Nanti,"  said  Essylt,  speaking 
the  truth,  and  remembering  that  she  had  not  four 
groats  to  spare. 

"  Well,"  said  Peggy,  "  thou  wert  frightened  thy- 
self, I  can  see,  for  thy  face  was  white  as  a  sheet ;  in- 
deed, it  has  a  green  look  on  it  now,  and  it  has  made 
thee  ten  years  older,  lass.  Come,  sit  down  on  this 
chair;  never  thee  mind  the  old  teapot,  I  will  buy  an- 
other to-morrow  when  I  go  to  Llanberwyn  to  see  my 
cousin.  There  is  a  little  shop  in  the  village,  and,  dear 
anwl!  I  almost  forgot  my  chief  message,  and  that  is, 
thee  must  take  my  place  at  Caefran  to-morrow — the 
mestress  is  much  better,  but  I  don't  like  to  leave  Miss 
Barbara  alone." 

"  Oh,  I'll  go,"  said  Essylt  wearily,  and  Peggy  at 
last  took  her  departure,  with  endless  injunctions  con- 
cerning the  next  day's  duties.  "  Take  care  of  the 
mestress,"  she  called  back  from  the  green,  "  and  mind 
thee,  that  Miss  Barbara's  tea  is  hot ;  the  only  thing 
makes  her  cross,  dear  heart,  is  a  cold  cup  of  tea,  and 
small  blame  to  her,  ach-y-fi!  " 

"  Oh,  I'll  take  care,"  said  Essylt,  "  her  tea  shall  be 
hot,"  and  closed  and  bolted  the  door.  "  Yes,  her  tea 
shall  be  hot,"  she  added  to  herself,  "  the  sun  shall  not 
scorch  her,  and  the  wind  shan't  blow  on  her,"  and  she 
swept  up  the  debris  of  the  teapot  angrily,  and  went 
upstairs  to  bed.  The  light  was  soon  put  out,  and  the 
mill  and  its  cottage  slept  under  the  moonlight  as 
calmly  as  if  naught  but  peace  and  happiness  dwelt 
under  its ,  thatched  gables. 

The  larks  were  singing  high  above  Caefran  next 
morning,  and  the  September  sun  was  glorifying  the 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          113 

garden,  where  every  bud  and  blossom  held  its  sparkling 
drop  of  dew,  as  Barbara  Owen  walked  down  between 
the  beds  of  old-fashioned  flowers;  the  gillyflowers,  the 
roses,  the  musk,  the  lavender.  How  she  loved  them 
all!  How  refreshing  to  breathe  the  cool  breeze  after 
a  night  of  wakeful  anxiety! 

Her  mother  was  better,  brighter  than  usual,  or  she 
would  not  have  dared  thus  to  linger  among  the  flowers. 
Peggy  had  gone  to  a  neighbouring  village,  to  see  a 
sick  friend,  so  all  the  responsibility  and  care  of  the 
invalid  rested  upon  Barbara's  young  shoulders  to-day ; 
but  she  meant  to  be  brave  and  wise,  and  had  only  come 
out  to  gain  strength  and  courage  from  the  brisk  au- 
tumn air,  while  Tom  took  her  place  in  the  sick-room. 
Here,  within  the  four  walls  that  held  the  object  of 
their  love,  these  two  lived — one  of  them,  entirely  night 
and  day,  the  other,  though  he  went  to  his  office  and 
pored  over  his  legal  blue  papers,  continually  return- 
ing there  in  thought. 

Having  walked  round  the  garden,  Barbara  before 
re-entering  the  house  stood  a  moment  at  the  gate, 
looking  down  the  green  drive,  and  listening  to  all  the 
jubilant  sounds  of  the  autumn  morning.  How  the 
cocks  crowed  in  the  stable  yard !  How  the  hens  craked 
their  announcement  of  a  new  brown  egg  in  the  barn! 
How  plainly  on  the  clear  air  came  the  sound  of  Ben  y 
Go's  forge  on  the  road  to  Maentrevor,  and  the  clap 
of  the  mill  in  the  valley! 

Poor  Phil-y-Velin !  Were  Michael's  firm  step,  his 
honest  blue  eyes,  and  his  pleasant  voice  as  much  missed 
in  the  mill  as  they  were  at  Caefran,  she  wondered,  and 
the  strange  desire  came  over  her  to  speak  to  the  old 
man,  not  as  she  generally  did,  with  a  careless  nod  and 
a  formal  "  Good  day,"  but  to  tell  him  face  to  face, 


114.  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

and  heart  to  heart,  that  he  was  not  the  only  sorrow- 
ful one  under  that  golden  September  sun. 

A  wistful  sadness  rose  in  her  heart,  a  tender  long- 
ing she  knew  not  for  what,  the  natural  cravings  of 
youth,  for  happiness,  for  love — for  romance  crushed 
and  banished  by  the  stern  realities  which  had  of  late 
entered  her  life,  and  as  she  stood  there,  outwardly 
calm  and  self-possessed,  a  host  of  rebellious  thoughts 
ran  riot  in  her  heart.  How  could  a  heavenly  Father, 
all-loving  and  all-powerful,  let  her  gentle  mother  suf- 
fer so  much?  Why  was  man  denied  the  greatest  of  all 
sacraments — vicarious  suffering?  How  gladly  would 
she  have  taken  her  mother's  place,  and  sent  her  out 
to  roam  amongst  the  flowers! 

And  while  the  simple  girl  was  losing  herself  in  a 
maze  of  puzzled  questionings,  she  was  suddenly  called 
to  everyday  life  by  the  sound  of  a  merry  whistle — • 
little  Bill  Tyissa  coming  up  the  drive — a  yellow  paper 
in  his  hand — a  telegram,  surely!  and  she  ran  to  meet 
him,  and  opened  it  hurriedly.  "  Sorry  am  detained 
till  to-morrow.  Rees."  Her  heart  sank,  but  she  thrust 
the  yellow  paper  into  her  pocket,  thankful  to  remem- 
ber that  her  mother  was  better  than  usual,  and  she 
turned  towards  the  house  to  tell  Tom  of  this  fresh 
anxiety. 

She  had  run  nearly  half-way  down  the  drive,  when, 
turning,  she  was  surprised  to  see  Essylt  walking  lei- 
surely towards  her.  As  she  drew  nearer,  Barbara  re- 
proached herself  again  for  the  shrinking  dislike  which 
she  felt  for  the  girl,  who  looked  paler  and  older  than 
she  generally  did,  and  though  her  red  lips  wore  the 
usual  mocking  smile,  her  heavy-lidded  eyes  scarcely 
showed  through  her  light  lashes. 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          115 

A  little  disturbed,  Barbara  hurried  to  meet  her. 
"What  is  the  matter,  Essylt?"  she  asked. 

"Are  you  knowing  that  your  mother  is  worse?" 
said  the  girl  in  quiet,  even  tones.  "  She's  screaming 
and  struggling  shocking,  ach-y-$!  I  can't  stop  there, 
not  I."  But  Barbara  scarcely  heard  her,  for  with  one 
cry  of  "  Oh,  mother ! "  she  had  darted  away,  had 
reached  the  door,  had  flown  up  the  stairs,  meeting 
Tom  on  the  way,  who  had  passed  her,  his  hands 
pressed  over  his  eyes. 

"  I  cannot  bear  it,  Barbara,  I  cannot  bear  it ! "  he 
said,  and  the  girl  went  on  alone,  with  one  prayer  for 
help,  as  she  ran  to  succour  the  suffering  form  on  the 
bed. 

She  thought  there  was  no  one  but  herself  to  see  that 
terrible  sight,  that  there  was  no  one  to  hear  the  pitiful 
cries  for  help,  for  Tom,  she  knew,  had  fled,  and  she 
was  unaware  that  Essylt  had  followed  her  closely,  and 
was  now  watching  her  from  the  dress  cupboard.  In 
her  heart  had  arisen  a  strange  new  strength,  a  cour- 
age and  calmness,  that  even  in  that  moment  of  tension 
she  recognised  as  an  answer  to  her  prayer,  and  though 
she  felt  as  if  the  ordeal  was  more  than  she  could  en- 
dure— and  live,  she  hurried  to  her  mother's  side,  for- 
getful of  everything  but  the  strong  flame  of  love  which 
glowed  in  her  heart,  and  the  eager  desire  to  soothe  and 
to  succour.  In  the  strength  of  that  great  love  she 
bore  it  all,  that  delicate,  slender  girl!  She  bore  un- 
flinchingly the  heartrending  cries  until  at  last,  in  a 
moment's  respite  from  pain,  she  heard  from  the  quiv- 
ering lips  the  name  that  had  been  hers  in  babyhood, 
"  Oh,  Baba — Baba !  have  pity,  and  let  me  go,"  and  as 
the  attack  grew  more  severe,  a  sense  of  giant  strength 


116  UNDER     THE    THATCH 

filled  Barbara's  heart,  and  she  answered  in  a  firm, 
though  tender  voice,  "  Yes,  darling,  I  will  let  you  go," 
and,  seeing  that  another  paroxysm  was  imminent,  she 
seized  the  phial  of  clear  liquid  which  Michael  had  left 
the  night  before,  and  with  a  firm  hand  poured  half  its 
contents  into  a  cup,  and  held  it  to  her  mother's  lips. 
As  if  aware  that  that  clear  draught  held  in  it  the 
power  to  ease  her  pain,  the  sufferer  drank  it  eagerly, 
and  Barbara  replaced  the  cup  upon  the  table. 

A  strange  calmness  had  come  over  her  as  she 
watched  the  sweet  face,  that  had  all  her  life  been  the 
dearest  to  her,  lose  its  look  of  agony.  She  saw  the 
lines  of  pain  die  out,  and  leave  the  marble  features  to 
a  divine  repose,  and  into  the  girl's  soul  a  strong  wave 
of  upliftment  entered,  raising  her  above  the  bonds  of 
sense  and  flesh,  and  standing  still,  with  eyes  and  hands 
upraised  to  heaven,  she  felt  as  though  her  spirit  rose 
in  company  with  that  of  the  gentle  being  whose  form 
only  remained  upon  the  bed  before  her.  For  one  silent 
moment  she  stood  transfixed  in  a  heavenly  vision,  and 
then  in  a  momentary  collapse  she  sank  beside  the  bed, 
not  fainting  or  swooning,  but  kissing  the  loved  face, 
the  lips,  the  hands. 

A  solemn  silence  filled  the  room.  Was  it  a  few 
moments  only,  or  was  it  an  hour,  or  was  it  a  lifetime 
that  Barbara  knelt  there?  She  never  knew,  for  all 
feeling  seemed  to  have  died  out  of  her,  and  to  have 
given  place  to  a  strange  unearthly  exaltation — she  did 
not  weep,  she  did  not  mourn,  she  only  realised  with  an 
uplifting  gratitude  that  her  mother  had  escaped  from 
the  torturing  pain,  and  that  for  her  henceforth  there 
remained  the  rest  of  God,  and  she  felt  with  rapture 
that  it  was  her  hand  that  had  opened  for  her  mother 
the  gates  of  paradise. 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          117 

At  last  she  rose — she  must  seek  for  Tom,  she  must 
tell  him  the  wonderful  news,  and  she  passed  out  into 
the  garden,  where  the  musk  and  the  roses  were  still 
filling  the  air  with  their  perfume,  and  the  lark  was  still 
singing  high  in  the  sky. 

Out  through  the  fragrant  garden,  and  down  through 
the  orchard  she  passed  as  if  in  a  dream,  so  unreal  did 
everything  around  her  seem,  so  close  and  so  real  the 
spirit  world  into  which  her  mother  had  just  passed; 
there  was  no  bitter  mourning  in  the  thought,  only  a 
tender  wonder  as  she  sought  for  Tom,  and  found  him 
under  the  gnarled  old  apple  trees,  lying  prone  upon 
the  ground,  his  hat  drawn  over  his  face;  but  though 
he  lay  so  still,  his  ears  were  strained  to  listen,  for  he 
heard  Barbara's  light  footstep  on  the  grass,  and  sat 
up  to  await  her  coming  with  a  face  pale  and  lined,  and 
full  of  anxious  questioning. 

"Is  she  better,  Barbara?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  girl.  "  Yes,  she  is  well,  Tom,  no 
more  pain  or  sorrow  for  her."  And  then  she  told  the 
tidings  that  have  stricken  so  many  hearts,  and  that 
have  left  the  hearers  desolate.  Forgetting  her  own 
sorrow,  she  tried  to  comfort  and  soothe  the  man  whose 
first  burst  of  grief  shook  him  as  the  breaking  of  a 
storm. 

"Dead?  Dear  mother  dead!  !And  you  can  smile, 
Barbara.  I  cannot  feel  like  you;  she  was  so  dear  to 
me." 

"  And  is.  Surely  she's  quite  as  dear  in  heaven  as 
here,  and  Tom,"  she  added,  laying  her  hand  tenderly 
upon  his,  "  listen  to  me — you  did  not  see  what  she  suf- 
fered at  last,  but  I  did ;  it  was  worse  than  ever  before, 
and  Dr.  Lloyd  had  told  me  that  it  would  kill  her  in  the 
end." 


118  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  Oh !  it  seems  so  dreadful,"  said  Tom.  "  Couldn't 
you  have  given  her  something  to  stop  it?  " 

"Yes,  and  I  did.  I  gave  her  a  teaspoonful  of  the 
clear  liquid  that  he  had  left,  and  oh!  the  pain  ceased, 
and  her  dear  face  grew  calm  and  beautiful,  and  she 
sank  back  and  died — and,  Tom,  it  was  my  hand  that 
helped  her  to  escape." 

"  To  escape,  Barbara — what  do  you  mean  ?  That 
the  dose  you  gave  her  killed  her  ?  " 

"Killed  her?  Oh,  Tom!  no,  no,  that  sounds  dread- 
ful. It  ended  her  life,  yes,  indeed,  and  I  am  thankful." 

"Good  Lord,  Barbara!  What  have  you  told  me? 
'Tis  true,  I  am  thankful  she  has  escaped,  and  I  know, 
dear,  you  meant  to  do  right — you  are  stronger  and 
braver  than  I  am ;  to  me  this  will  always  be  a  terrible 
thought.  I  wish  I  could  look  upon  it  as  you  do." 

"  But  for  mother's  dear  sake,  Tom,  we  can  bear  any 
bitterness." 

"  And  do  you  know,  Barbara,"  he  said,  "  the  law 
would  look  upon  you  as  a  criminal.  Oh,  Barbara !  you 
might  be — be,  oh!  I  don't  know  what  they  might  do 
to  you,  and  then,"  he  said,  "  you  don't  seem  to  realise 
that  none  but  God  has  a  right  to  put  an  end  to  life. 
And  what  about  the  hereafter,  Barbara?  What  if 
punishment  awaits  you  there  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  Tom,  you  cannot  frighten  me,  and  for 
'dear  mother's  sake,  even  that  I  could  bear,  I  think,  as 
long  as  she  was  happy." 

"  You  are  a  strange  girl,  Barbara,"  said  Tom,  "  but 
the  dearest  and  best  in  the  world,  and  this  is  the 
dreariest,  blackest  day  of  our  lives." 

"  Yes,"  said  Barbara,  "  and  the  brightest  of  dear 
mother's." 

But  Tom  was  lying  on  the  grass   again,  his   face 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          119 

buried  on  his  arms,  and  for  some  time  both  were 
silent,  until  suddenly  he  stretched  out  his  hands  to 
his  sister.  "  Don't  think  me  very  cowardly,"  he  said, 
"  it  has  been  a  dreadful  shock  to  me,"  and  he  rose 
slowly  to  his  feet ;  "  but  I  am  coming  with  you  now ; 
I  am  wanted,  I  know,  you  have  nobody  but  me  now." 

"  No,  nobody,"  said  Barbara,  and  placing  her  hand 
in  his  they  passed  under  the  apple  trees,  and  into  the 
garden.  "  Flowers,  we  want,  Tom,  don't  we?  Will 
you  gather  them?  the  best  and  plenty." 

He  nodded,  and  went  down  the  path  alone,  and  the 
slender  slip  of  a  girl  entered  the  house  of  death  with 
a  spirit  strong  and  brave,  with  the  power  that  can 
make  of  an  aching  heart  a  ladder  to  heaven  itself.  Just 
within  the  front  door  she  met  Essylt. 

"  Oh,  Essylt,"  she  cried,  "  I  wish  Peggy  were  here ! 
Dear  mother  is  dead."  There  was  a  strange  light  in 
the  beautiful  brown  eyes,  and  though  her  lips  trembled 
a  little,  her  voice  was  calm  and  firm. 

"  Dead ! "  exclaimed  Essylt,  and  her  eyes  opened 
wide  with  a  stare  of  real  astonishment,  for  while  she 
had  stood  in  the  dress  cupboard  she  had  been  much 
annoyed  to  find  that  one  of  the  hanging  garments  pre- 
vented her  having  a  full  view  of  Barbara's  actions ; 
she  had  heard  the  words  "  Yes,  I  will  let  you  go  "  ;  the 
pouring  out  of  the  liquid,  and  the  sudden  quiet  that 
followed,  but  had  scarcely  conceived  the  possibility  of 
what  followed.  But  now  the  truth  dawned  upon  her; 
yes,  she  saw  it  all,  and  she  could  wield  as  she  chose 
the  weapon  which  the  knowledge  she  had  gained  had 
placed  in  her  power,  and  as  she  turned  away,  to  obey 
Barbara's  directions,  the  curious  sarcastic  smile  was 
on  her  lips.  There  had  been  more  than  astonishment 
in  the  grey-green  depths  of  her  eyes,  but  Barbara 


120  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

was  too  absorbed  to  notice  it ;  there  was  no  sympathy 
nor  sorrow  in  them,  but  even  this  she  did  not  miss,  but 
gave  her  directions  in  firm,  quiet  tones. 

"  You  must  go  to  Tyissa,"  she  said.  "  Tell  Mali 
and  John,  and  they  will  come  down  to  help  us." 

The  old  house  was  still ;  only  the  sounds  of  the  larks 
and  the  humming  of  the  bees  in  the  lavender  came  in 
through  the  open  door,  and  a  great  wave  of  sorrowful 
longing  flooded  the  girl's  heart.  She  went  into  the 
parlour  and  flung  herself  upon  the  old  frayed  couch, 
and  at  last  broke  into  a  wild  torrent  of  tears. 

And  when  Tom  returned,  laden  with  flowers,  he 
found  her  still  sobbing,  and  now  it  was  his  turn  to 
soothe  and  comfort,  and  thus  together  they  began  to 
face  the  future,  which,  although  it  held  for  both  of 
them  rich  stores  of  joy  and  happiness,  yet  was  never 
able  to  restore  to  their  cup  of  life  the  one  precious 
drop  of  a  mother's  love. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE  weeks  that  followed  slowly  and  monotonously  ap- 
peared to  Barbara  like  months  or  years,  when  her  life, 
shorn  of  all  its  joys,  seemed  scarcely  worth  living,  and 
she  went  about  her  household  duties  as  if  in  a  dream. 

Dr.  Rees,  deeply  regretting  his  failure  to  fulfil  his 
promise  to  Michael  Lloyd,  to  return  to  Maentrevor  on 
the  day  of  Michael's  departure,  was  genuinely  sincere, 
and  he  endeavoured  by  every  means  in  his  power  to 
make  up  to  Barbara  for  his  absence  upon  that  critical 
day.  He  took  all  business  matters  off  her  shoulders, 
and  scarcely  a  day  passed  when  he  did  not  drive  up  to 
Caefran  on  some  pretext  or  other.  Before  long,  how- 
ever, Barbara,  naturally  keen-sighted,  observed  that 
during  his  visits  he  was  restless  and  uneasy,  and  had 
evidently  something  on  his  mind.  "What  is  it,  Dr. 
Rees  ?  "  she  said  one  day  when  Fanny  and  the  gig 
had  been  waiting  long  at  the  gate,  while  he  seemed 
unable  to  bring  his  visit  to  a  close.  "  I  know  you 
have  something  to  say;  don't  be  afraid,  nothing  will 
ever  seem  of  great  importance  to  me  now,  I  think;  I 
mean  nothing  too  bad  to  bear.  What  is  it?  Is  any- 
thing wrong  with  Tom  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  child ;  he's  all  right,  I  think — but  'pon  my 
word,  now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  he's  not  looking  well. 
But,  my  dear,  we  must  have  a  little  talk  about  money 
matters.  I  am  awfully  grieved  to  have  to  tell  you  that 
your  mother's  death  deprives  you  of  her  small  income, 
and  now  you  will  only  have  a  mere  pittance  to  live 
upon — not  enough  to  keep  you  in  clothes." 

121 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  'Tis  a  matter  of  no  money,  then,  that  we  must 
talk  about,"  said  Barbara  with  a  brave  smile,  "  and 
that  I  don't  care  about.  I  am  young,  I  am  strong,  I 
can  work — so  if  that  is  all,  don't  grieve  about  it. 
Does  Tom  know?" 

"  Yes,  poor  boy.  I  told  him  this  morning,  but  he 
knew  it  before,  of  course ;  indeed,  he  is  getting  to  have 
too  old  a  head  upon  his  young  shoulders,  but  this  even- 
ing you  and  he  must  talk  over  the  subject  together, 
and  see  whether  you  approve  of  my  suggestion.  You 
wouldn't  like  to  leave  Cwm  Meivon,  would  you  ?  " 

"Leave  Cwm  Meivon?"  said  Barbara.  "No,  that 
would  be  the  one  thing  I  could  not  bear." 

"  Well,  well,  that  can  easily  be  avoided — we  can  find 
a  house  for  you  somewhere,  for  I  grieve  to  say  you 
will  have  to  leave  Caefran,  and  will  have  to  let  it. 
The  rent  will  be  about  all  you  will  have  to  live  upon. 
I  wish  to  speak  to  you  about  this  now,  as  Colonel  Gur- 
gune,  of  Trevone,  has  asked  me  to  take  his  son  abroad 
for  a  few  months'  change.  The  boy  is  delicate,  you 
know,  and  I  can  easily  get  Lloyd  to  take  my  place  for 
the  short  time  I  shall  be  away." 

For  a  moment  a  perplexed  and  serious  look  passed 
over  Barbara's  face.  "  Leave  Caefran ! "  she  said, 
"  and  go  to  a  cottage  to  live !  Well,  I  am  ready,  it 
will  make  no  difference  to  me,  except  that  I  am  sorry 
you  are  going  away  again  so  soon — indeed,  I  think  I 
shall  be  glad  to  get  away  from  here,  as  it  is  getting 
so  ruinous  and  gloomy,  and  now  it  is  full  of  sad  mem- 
ories. Yes,  I  am  quite  ready  to  go.  Tom  and  I  will 
settle  it  all  to-night,  only  where  to  go,  I  don't  know; 
some  little  cottage  up  the  valley,  Dr.  Rees,  not  to 
Maentrevor.  Oh!  I  could  not  bear  a  town." 

"'Tis  not  much  of  a  town,"  said  Dr.  Rees  with  an 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          123 

indulgent  smile  for  his  native  place;  "but,  my  dear, 
I  have  thought  of  that,  and  I  believe  I  have  found  a 
place  that  will  suit  you.  Let  me  keep  my  secret  for 
a  few  days  until  I  have  made  all  arrangements.  You 
shall  be  in  Cwm  Meivon  valley,  and  under  the  thatch; 
you  will  like  that,  I  know." 

"  Yes,"  said  Barbara  with  a  little  wintry  smile.  "  I 
don't  think  even  poverty  could  make  me  feel  at  home 
in  a  red-brick  house  with  slates  on  the  roof.  We 
have  tiles  here,  of  course,  but  they  are  brown  with  age. 

"  Well,  you  are  a  brave  girl,"  said  Dr.  Rees,  much 
relieved  at  the  quiet  manner  in  which  Barbara  had 
taken  his  news,  "  and  what's  more,"  he  added,  "  I  have 
heard  of  a  probable  tenant  for  Caefran,  or  tenants, 
rather,  for  I  think  it  will  have  to  be  divided  into  two 
houses,  one  consisting  of  the  rooms  you  have  closed, 
the  other  those  you  have  lived  in.  I  believe  there  are 
two  farmers  who  will  take  it  and  the  land  belonging  to 
it,  and  pay  you  a  good  rent.  No  one  else  would  take 
it,  I  think,  without  extensive  repairs  and  alterations, 
which  would  entail  great  expense  upon  you." 

"  No,  indeed,  I  see  that,"  said  Barbara.  "  You  are 
very  kind,  Dr.  Rees,  and  you  seem  to  have  made  very 
good  arrangements  for  me ;  it  will  be  all  right.  I  shall 
be  quite  content,  I  suppose,"  she  added  with  a  smile 
and  something  like  her  former  sprightliness ;  "  I  shall 
still  be  Barbara  Owen  with  all  her  faults  and  failings. 
You  won't  want  me  to  give  up  my  personality,  will 
you?" 

"No,  indeed,  my  dear;  God  forbid!"  said  the  doc- 
tor. "  We  could  not  spare  you." 

"  Well,  let  everything  else  go,  I  don't  care !  "  She 
felt  as  though  the  whole  world  were  slipping  away 
from  her,  and  as  though  she  were  embarking  on  an  un- 


known  sea  without  rudder  or  compass ;  but  still  within 
her  she  felt  a  sense  of  courage  and  security  that  helped 
her  to  face  the  future.  Her  mother  was  safe  from 
these  troubles,  nothing  could  harm  her,  and,  for  her- 
self, what  did  it  matter?  No  one  would  know  how 
she  suffered;  no  one  would  know  how  she  missed  the 
companionship  of  the  mother  who  had  been  as  a  sister 
to  her — no  one  but  Tom,  and  Michael  Lloyd,  perhaps 
— she  believed  he  would  understand — and  with  these 
thoughts  in  her  mind  she  accompanied  Dr.  Rees  to 
his  gig,  and  returned 'to  the  house  alone,  her  young 
face  full  of  serious  thought. 

But  time  was  bringing  healing  on  his  wings,  was 
renewing  within  her  the  verve  and  eagerness  of  youth. 
All  through  October's  russet  days,  and  November's 
grey  skies,  she  was  unconsciously  gathering  the  treas- 
ures that  the  sea  of  trouble  leaves  on  its  tidal  shores, 
and  garnering  the  harvest  of  experience  with  which 
we  are  all  endowed  on  our  passage  through  life.  Many 
of  the  sheaves  of  that  harvest  will  have  been  gathered 
with  laughter  and  song,  and  if  some  of  them  are 
stained  with  tears  and  bitterness  let  us  still  treasure 
them,  for  they  are  the  only  dower  with  which  we  are 
equipped  for  our  entrance  upon  another  life. 

Caefran,  under  the  October  sun,  looked  more  dilapi- 
dated and  gaunt  than  ever,  and  when  November  came 
it  grew  still  more  dark  and  shadowy,  so  gloomy  in- 
deed that  Barbara  spent  as  much  of  her  time  as  pos- 
sible in  the  open  air ;  out  in  the  old  barns  and  stables ; 
away  over  the  hills,  and  through  the  woods,  and  often 
over  the  furzy  knoll  to  the  sandy  shore,  where  at  this 
season  of  the  year  the  clouds  lay  low  over  the  silent 
sea,  and  the  scene  was  calculated  to  rouse  the  phan- 
toms of  unrest  that  lie  asleep  in  the  depths  of  the 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          125 

heart,  and  to  awaken  the  shadowy  fears  that  haunt 
the  hours  of  loneliness ;  for  here  the  waves  and  wind 
seemed  to  sing  together  a  requiem  over  vanished  joys 
and  hopes.  But  none  of  these  things  had  the  power 
to  depress  the  courageous  spirit  of  the  girl,  who  stood 
there  looking  out  over  the  wintry  sea,  for  the  springs 
of  life  and  youth  and  energy  were  very  strong  in  Bar- 
bara Owen's  nature,  bubbling  up  from  a  well  spring 
of  good  health  and  sound  common  sense,  and  from  a 
temperament  which  was  always  ready  to  respond  to 
all  that  was  bright  and  beautiful,  turning  every  grey 
cloud  into  gold,  and  every  cold  wind  into  a  message 
of  love  before  she  assimilated  them  into  her  own  sunny 
nature.  No  compunctions,  no  qualms  of  conscience 
ever  disturbed  her  concerning  the  manner  of  her 
mother's  death;  on  the  contrary,  when  the  longing  re- 
gret grew  unbearable  sometimes,  a  sudden  warm  glow 
would  rise  in  her  heart  in  the  consoling  remembrance 
that  at  the  last  her  hand  alone  had  opened  for  the  suf- 
ferer the  gates  of  freedom,  and  she  went  on  her  way, 
though  with  the  inevitable  sorrow  for  the  past,  yet 
with  a  bright  outlook  upon  the  future. 

Not  thus  did  Tom  take  the  first  serious  trouble  of 
his  life.  The  grief  which  his  mother's  death  had 
brought  him  before  long  merged  in  the  disturbing 
thought  of  the  manner  of  that  death;  he  would  have 
given  worlds  to  blot  out  that  fateful  day  in  September 
which  had  brought  so  great  a  change  to  Barbara  and 
him.  He  grew  more  grave  and  silent,  there  were  lines 
of  care  on  the  fresh  young  face,  and  although  his  man- 
ner towards  his  sister  was  as  tender  as  ever,  even  more 
so  perhaps,  the  memory  of  the  day  in  the  Caefran  or- 
chard seemed  always  present  to  him,  and  the  girl  felt 
that  whenever  they  were  alone  together  there  was  one 


126  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

subject  which  he  carefully  avoided,  and  this  knowledge 
caused  a  little  cloud  to  fall  between  them,  which  had 
never  existed  in  the  dear  old  past. 

On  one  of  the  coldest,  greyest  days  of  the  month 
Dr.  Rees  was  making  his  way  slowly  up  to  the  green 
drive,  Tom  sitting  beside  him  in  Sam's  place.  "  Ton 
my  word,  Tom,  it's  marvellous  how  things  do  turn  out 
for  the  best,"  said  the  doctor  with  a  reminding  flick 
to  Fanny's  fat  side.  "  D'you  know,  after  all,  I  begin 
to  think  this  will  be  a  change  for  the  better?  " 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Tom,  "if  Barbara  does  not  object 
I  think  it  will  be  good  for  her,  and  for  me  too,  to  get 
away  from  Caefran.  She  is  very  bright  and  brave, 
but  I  wonder  sometimes  how  she  can  be  so,  the  place 
is  getting  so  dilapidated.  I  never  used  to  notice  how 
dark  and  gloomy  it  was  before  dear  mother's  death." 

"Oh!  it  was  always  gloomy,  you  know;  people  al- 
ways pitied  you  two  young  things  being  shut  up  there, 
you  know." 

"  Well,  we  weren't  shut  up,  and  we  were  very,  very 
happy,  happier,  I  think,  than  either  of  us  will  ever  be 
again." 

"  Oh,  good  Lor',  Tom,"  said  the  doctor,  "  that's  what 
young  people  always  say  when  they  meet  with  a  great 
trouble.  'Tis  the  natural  course  of  events,  my  boy, 
for  the  parents  to  die  before  the  children.  Your 
mother  was  very  young,  but  we  could  ill  spare  her; 
but  there!  as  I  was  saying,  everything  turns  out  for 
the  best,  and  had  she  lived  longer  she  would  have  had 
more  agony  to  bear." 

"  Was  it  quite  impossible,"  said  Tom,  "  that  she 
could  have  recovered?" 

"Quite  impossible?   Well,  we  can  never  apply  those 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 

words  to  the  work  of  the  Almighty.  She  might  have  re- 
covered if  she  had  lived  long  enough  to  wear  out  the 
disease,  but  Barbara  tells  me  the  pain  was  increasing, 
so  I  am  sure  you  would  not  want  her  to  live  on." 

Tom  looked  seriously  between  Fanny's  two  ears. 
"  It  seems  a  pity,  sir,  when  life  is  only  to  be  one  long 
agony,  that  we  cannot  end  it,  and  let  the  sufferer 
go  free." 

"  Oh,  good  Lord,  Tom !  What  are  you  talking 
about? "  he  said.  "  A  spark  of  life  must  be  nursed 
as  long  as  possible.  If  we  did  anything  of  that  kind 
we  should  soon  be  called  to  account,  and  in  the  eye 
of  the  law  should  be  considered  murderers.  No,  no, 
Tom,  be  thankful  that  your  dear  mother  died  when  she 
did.  God  alone  has  the  right  to  extinguish  the  flame 
which  He  has  kindled.  By  Jove,  there's  a  hare, 
Tom !  "  he  said,  rising  to  his  feet  in  his  eagerness,  and 
pointing  to  a  clump  of  brown  ferns,  for  he  was  a  keen 
sportsman,  and  Tom,  little  less  so,  looked  in  the  direc- 
tion in  which  his  finger  pointed,  and  for  a  moment  for- 
got the  subject  which  haunted  him  so  continually. 
They  were  drawing  near  the  top  of  the  drive,  and  as 
they  approached  the  garden  gate  Barbara  came  out 
to  meet  them,  a  little  paler  perhaps  than  when  we  first 
saw  her,  but  with  an  indescribable  air  of  womanliness 
which  had  been  absent  when  her  life  had  held  nothing 
but  happiness.  "  I  know,  I  know,"  she  said  as  the  two 
men  stepped  out  of  the  gig.  "  You  have  settled  all 
about  the  cottage  for  me,  and  to-day  you  are  going 
to  tell  me  where  it  is." 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  "  I  do  hope  you  will  be  satisfied, 
Barbara;  indeed,  I  think  you  will.  Let  us  come  in. 
Yes,  tea  is  ready.  I  am  glad  I  shall  have  company," 


128  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

and  they  went  into  the  shady  parlour  which  not  even 
Barbara's  bright  presence  could  make  cheerful. 

"And  now  to  business,"  said  Dr.  Rees,  when  they 
were  seated  round  the  table,  Barbara  enthroned  behind 
the  old  silver  teapot  which  had  been  her  grand- 
mother's. "  Now,  can  you  think  of  any  house  in  this 
neighbourhood  that  would  be  both  suitable  and  agree- 
able to  you  ?  " 

"Suitable  and  agreeable?"  said  Barbara  musingly. 
"  Well,  I  don't  know ;  I  have  been  thinking  a  good  deal 
about  the  matter  lately,  and  there  seems  some  objec- 
tion to  every  house;  Berllanoer  is  too  large,  the 
thatched  cottage  behind  Tyissa  is  too  old,  Llanpryan 
is  too  close  to  the  road,  and  Pantywenol  is  haunted — 
no,  indeed,  I  don't  know  of  one  that  would  be  perfect, 
but  I  am  prepared  to  go  to  either,  and  I've  no  doubt 
I  shall  make  myself  at  home  in  it." 

"Well,"  said  Tom  impatiently,  hurrying  the  action 
of  the  piece,  somewhat  to  Dr.  Rees's  annoyance,  who 
had  meant  to  work  up  gradually  to  his  climax,  "  what 
would  you  think  of  the  mill?  " 

"And  turn  out  Philip  Lloyd?"  exclaimed  Barbara 
with  wide-open  eyes.  "  Oh !  not  for  the  world." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Tom.  "  Who  would  dream 
of  such  a  thing?  Phil  would  remain  in  his  own  quar- 
ters. But  don't  you  remember  the  big  west  gable 
where  the  owls  hoot  at  night,  and  the  bats  fly  out  from 
the  casement?  " 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  said  Barbara ;  "  but  where  the  sun 
shines  all  day,  and  where  the  west  wind  always  brings 
the  smell  of  the  sea  and  the  boats.  But,  Tom,  would 
he  let  me  live  there,  and  could  it  be  made  habitable, 
d'you  think?" 

"Well,  that's  it,"  said  Dr.  Rees.     "We  have  just 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          129 

been  speaking  to  him,  and  asking  him  that  very  ques- 
tion. He  is  quite  willing,  but  of  course  it  is  all  subject 
to  your  approval,  my  dear." 

"And  you  would  have  no  doubt  what  Phil-y-Velin 
felt  about  it  if  you  had  seen  his  face,"  said  Tom ;  "  he 
was  simply  delighted  at  the  thought  of  having  *  little 
miss,'  as  he  calls  you,  under  the  same  roof  as  himself." 

"  Well,  we've  become  great  friends  lately ;  I  often 
go  down  and  have  a  chat  with  him,"  said  Barbara. 
"He's  a  dear  old  man — so  sensible,  and  so  sympa- 
thetic." 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  "  so  he  is.  You  will  be  quite 
apart  from  him,  you  know,  and  Essylt  might  remain 
in  their  cottage  as  your  servant,  you  know." 

"  But  I  shan't  want  servants." 

"  Well,  you'll  find  it  pretty  hard  to  shake  off  Peggy 
Jerry,"  said  Tom. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  dear  old  thing ! " 

"  Oh,  we  made  all  sort  of  plans,  I  can  tell  you.  Phil 
says  the  rooms  are  well  aired  and  dry — he  has  seen  to 
that,  and  so  there  only  remains  for  you  to  go  down 
and  settle  the  matter  with  him." 

"But,  but,"  said  Barbara,  hesitating,  "what  about 
his  son?  Do  you  think  Dr.  Lloyd  would  like  such  an 
arrangement  ?  " 

"  Michael,"  said  Dr.  Rees.  "  He  has  asked  me  to 
look  out  for  a  house  for  him  in  Maentrevor — indeed, 
I  have  my  strong  suspicion  that  he  is  going  to  be 
married.  I  don't  know  why  I  think  so.  He  has  never 
told  me  so,  but  when  I  taxed  him  with  it,  he  only  said, 
*  Well,  'tis  time,  isn't  it  ? '  and  if  that's  the  case,"  said 
the  doctor,  helping  himself  to  another  piece  of  toast, 
"  he  will  be  glad  for  his  father  to  have  company  so 
near." 


130  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  Perhaps,  indeed,"  said  Barbara.  "  Well,  if  you 
two  can  arrange  about  the  rent  for  me,  I  am  ready 
to  go  in  when  you  like.  Caefran  is  very  lovely  now." 

"  That's  right,  Barbara,"  said  Tom.  "  I  was  very 
much  afraid  you'd  be  too  proud  to  come  down  to  the 
old  mill,  but  I  will  say,  when  it  comes  to  the  point,  you 
always  act  reasonably." 

"  Proud ! "  said  Barbara,  laughing.  "  I  wonder  what 
I  should  have  to  be  proud  of  now,  Tom.  Indeed,  you 
always  wronged  me  in  thinking  I  was  proud." 

"  Well,  'pon  my  word ! "  said  Dr.  Rees.  "  I  wonder, 
now,  if,  when  you  are  settled  into  the  mill-gable,  you 
will  be  proud  of  that  too.  There  is  a  great  deal  of 
oak  carving  about  it.  The  rooms  are  all  panelled 
breast-high,  I  think." 

"  Well,  indeed ! "  said  Barbara.  "  There  seems 
nothing  for  me  to  do  but  to  enter  my  new  dwelling  at 
once." 

"Oh,  dear,  dear!  Stop  a  bit,"  said  the  doctor, 
laughing.  "  You  young  people  are  always  impatient. 
It  will  take  old  Phil  a  month  or  two  to  get  the  place 
in  order  for  you  ;  but  listen  you,  my  dear,"  and  he 
tapped  with  his  finger  on  the  table  to  emphasise  his 
words — "  you  will  have  very  little  to  live  upon  when 
you  are  there." 

"  Oh  !  I  don't  mind  that  at  all,"  said  Barbara. 
"  Very  little  will  do  for  Tom  and  me." 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  "  and  I  shall  be  able  to  pay  you 
for  my  board,  for  what  d'you  think,  Barbara !  old  Mr. 
Preece  has  offered  to  make  me  his  managing  clerk  and 
to  give  me  a  salary." 

"Oh!  Tom!  You  are  getting  on!"  said  Barbara. 
"  If  it  had  only  happened  two  months  ago ! "  and  a 
little  wistful  sadness  clouded  her  face  for  a  moment, 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          131 

and  Tom,  comprehending,  was  silent,  looking  down 
at  the  table  with  that  curious,  anxious  look  on  his  face 
which  puzzled  Barbara  so  much.  It  was  not  grief  at 
the  loss  of  his  mother,  for  the  keen  edge  of  that  sor- 
row seemed  to  be  wearing  off  somewhat.  His  advance- 
ment in  his  profession  was  evidently  assured,  so  ways 
and  means  could  not  be  troubling  him,  and  yet  his 
round  honest  face  grew  thinner  every  day ;  there  were 
lines  between  his  eyebrows;  he  seemed  to  be  wrapped 
up  iir  his  legal  duties,  reading  and  w.orking  long  after 
office  hours ;  he  was  developing  fast  what  people  called 
"  an  old  head  upon  young  shoulders." 

"  And  when  can  I  go  and  see  my  new  house?  "  Bar- 
bara said  when  she  saw  them  off  on  the  doorstep. 

"  When  you  like,"  said  Tom,  and  as  a  result  of  this 
conversation,  the  very  next  day  saw  Barbara  making 
her  way  down  the  drive.  When  she  came  in  sight  of 
the  mill  Phil-y-Velin  was  sitting  on  the  moss-grown 
wall  which  had  once  encircled  the  courtyard.  His  back 
was  turned  to  the  slope  of  the  Caefran  drive,  in  which 
he  was  generally  much  interested,  but  to-day  he  sat 
with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  west  gable  of  the  mill,  his 
solid  legs  dangling  down  before  him,  his  hands  on, 
his  knees.  He  was  lost  in  thought;  sometimes  he  drew 
his  hand  over  his  grizzly  beard ;  sometimes  he  took 
off  his  hat  and  ruffled  his  iron-grey  hair. 

It  was  not  at  all  the  sort  of  day  which  one  would 
choose  for  an  open-air  reverie,  but  Phil  had  sat  there, 
solid  and  square  and  silent,  for  a  full  half-hour,  when 
a  light  step  on  the  road  behind  him  awoke  him  from 
his  musings.  In  a  moment  he  was  awake  and  alert, 
and  with  a  look  of  pleased  surprise  on  his  good-hu- 
moured face. 

"  Miss  Barbara !     Well,  how  are  you  this  dull  grey 


132  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

weather?  Indeed,  it  is  doing  me  good  to  see  your 
bright  face,  and  I  knew  your  step  in  a  minute,"  he 
said,  rising  to  take  off  his  hat. 

"  Well !  indeed,"  said  Barbara,  "  'tis  kind  of  you  to 
say  that,  Phil,  because,  you  know,  'tis  a  great  pleasure 
to  me  to  come  down  here  to  have  a  chat  with  you.  I 
can't  think  how  I  lived  so  long  without  that  pleasure. 
'Tis  a  grey  day,  and  cold  enough!  But  why  do  you 
sit  out  here,  instead  of  in  the  cosy  mill-kitchen?" 

"Well  !  thinking  I  was,  and,  somehow  or  other, 
when  I'm  settling  my  plans,  I  always  like  to  be  out  in 
the  air — not  even  the  walls  of  my  old  mill  around  me 
— but  just  the  sky  above  me,  d'you  see,  and  in  my  deed 
I'm  glad  you  came  down,  because  I'm  wanting  a  bit  of 
advice." 

"  Well !  let  me  sit  down  by  you  a  bit,"  said  Barbara, 
taking  her  seat  by  his  side  on  the  wall,  "  and  perhaps 
between  us  and  the  sky  we  can  come  to  some  wise  de- 
cision." 

She  had  acted  upon  a  sudden  impulse  one  day  as 
she  stood  looking  down  the  drive  with  the  homely 
country  sounds  around  her;  she  had  thought  that  per- 
haps the  old  miller  felt  his  son's  absence  and  missed 
him,  and  she  had  spent  many  a  pleasant  half-hour  in 
the  quiet  old  mill-kitchen  with  Phil  since  then.  Mi- 
chael had  written  to  her  once  on  hearing  of  her  mother's 
death — just  the  ordinary  kindly  words  of  sympathy 
and  condolence — a  letter  any  stranger  might  have 
written.  It  had  sent  a  little  chill  into  her  heart,  so 
bereaved  and  sorrowful,  for  she  had  had  the  feeling, 
when  others  seemed  to  mistake  her  serene  patience  for 
indifference,  that  Michael  Lloyd  would  have  known 
what  she  felt,  for  he  had  known  her  mother,  and  what 
she  was  to  her,  and  in  his  letter  only  two  lines  written 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          133 

after  the  broad  strong  signature  had  comforted  her 
in  the  least.  "  I  feel  that  these  words  appear  cold  and 
conventional,  but  you  know  how  I  feel  for  you !  "  To- 
day she  had  come  in  pursuance  of  the  plan  suggested 
by  Dr.  Rees  and  Tom,  to  make  arrangements  with 
Phil-y-Velin.  The  skies  were  grey,  and  Caefran  was 
damp  and  dark,  and  she  longed  for  the  sound  of  a 
human  voice.  There  was  Phil  solid  and  straight  and 
square  as  ever! 

"And  what  d'you  think  of  Dr.  Rees's  plan,  Phil?" 
she  asked.  "  Are  you  willing  for  me  to  come  and  live 
here  in  the  west  gable?  " 

"  Willing?  Dear  Cat  on  Pawb,  'tis  proud  I  am,  and 
glad  in  my  heart,  that  I've  got  it  here  ready  for  you. 
And  what  was  I  keeping  it  empty  all  these  years  for, 
d'you  think,  when  so  many  people  have  been  wanting 
it,  unless  it  was  for  a  little  lady  like  you  to  come  and 
live  in  it?  There  was  Seth  the  carpenter  wanted  it 
for  a  workshop  last  year,  if  you  please!  And  Shaen 
Pantywenol  asked  for  it  for  her  daughter  that  was 
married  to  Howells  of  Vaenor,  but  '  No,'  says  I ;  '  I 
don't  want  to  let  it  nor  to  disturb  the  tenants  that  are 
living  there  now,' "  and  he  laughed  till  his  grey  waist- 
coat shook,  "  for  mind  you,  Miss  vdch,"  he  said, 
"  there's  a  couple  of  beautiful  owls  living  up  there  in 
the  point  of  the  gable,  and  there's  swallows  and  spar- 
rows there  somewhere,  and  jackdaws  too!" 

"  Yes,  and  bats ! "  said  Barbara.  "  Well,  Phil,  don't 
disturb  any  of  them  for  me,  for  I  love  them,  all  of 
them." 

"Are  you  sure  now?"  said  Phil,  turning  one  eye 
toward  her  keenly. 

"Quite  sure." 

"  Then  that  settles  it  all,"  he  said ;  "  for  in  my  deed, 


134  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

Miss  vdch,  tho'  I  dare  say  you'll  think  me  an  old 
fool,  'twas  the  only  thing  that  was  troubling  me. 
You  see,"  he  added,  taking  off  his  hat  and  rumpling 
his  hair,  as  he  had  a  habit  of  doing  when  anything 
moved  him,  "  you  see — the  owls  and  the  crows  and 
all  the  other  creatures  have  lived  under  the  thatch 
together  so  long,  that  somehow  I  couldn't  drive  them 
away." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Barbara,  "  and  now  you  must  take 
me  too,  under  the  thatch,  and  perhaps  in  time  you 
will  be  as  unwilling  to  drive  me  away." 

Phil  laughed  heartily — it  seemed  a  huge  joke  to 
him.  "  And  what  were  you  thinking  of  when  I  ar- 
rived? "  asked  Barbara  at  last. 

Phil  bent  his  head  first  on  one  side,  and  then  on 
the  other,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  mill  all  the  time. 

"  Well !  'tis  this,  you  see,"  he  said,  "  'tis  thinking 
of  the  past,  I  am  to-day,  and  picturing  this  house  as 
it  was,  before  I  turned  it  into  a  mill — when  it  was 
Plas  Meivon,  where  old  Madam  Hughes  lived.  Oh! 
it  was  a  fine  place,  although  the  thatch  was  on  it  then, 
you  know,  the  same  as  now — there  was  always  the 
thatch  on  it,  from  the  old  time  past,  when  they  say  a 
king  slept  in  it,  on  his  way  from  Milford  to  the  North. 
I  think  it  was  King  Henry  VII,  but  I  don't  know  much 
about  history,  not  I.  Well !  then,  when  Madam  Hughes 
died  I  bought  the  house  and  turned  the  east  end  of  it 
into  a  mill,  but  to-day  I  can  see  it  as  it  was,  long 
ago,  and,  listen  you,  Miss  Barbara,  I  am  going  to 
turn  this  end  back  again,  to  be  just  like  it  used  to  be." 

"  Oh,  Phil,  that  would  be  lovely ! "  said  Barbara, 
gazing  up  at  the  gables  as  intently  as  the  miller  did. 

"  Yes,  yes !  Look  you  up  there  now  at  that  middle 
point  above  the  mill-door.  Well,  I  remember  there 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          135 

used  to  be  a  weather-cock  on  the  top.  I  can  hear  his 
scream  now,  when  the  wind  turned  him  round  on  his 
pivot.  He  fell  one  night  in  a  gale,  and  I  never  put 
him  up  again,  and  he's  been  up  on  a  ledge  in  the  grain 
loft  ever  since.  He  had  some  gold  about  him  some- 
where, and  he  used  to  glitter  in  the  sunlight  beautiful. 
Well!  I'll  put  him  back  in  his  place." 

"  Phil !  "  gasped  Barbara.  "  What  else  are  you  go- 
ing to  do  ?  " 

"  Never  mind !  Listen  now.  There  is  a  strong  oak 
door  in  the  other  end,  and  a  broad  window  looking  out 
to  the  west,  but  it  is  all  boarded  up,  as  you  know — 
only  a  little  corner  left  open  for  Peggy  and  Essylt 
to  use  if  they  like,  in  the  middle  of  the  house." 

"  We'll  clean  up  the  diamond  panes  till  they  are  as 
clear  as  crystal,"  said  Barbara. 

"  And  we'll  have  the  ceilings  whitewashed,  and  the 
walls  whitewashed  too,  eh?"  said  the  miller. 

"  Oh,  no !  The  walls  must  be  coloured  yellow,  and 
this  panelling  of  oak  must  be  left  as  it  is.  Why,  Phil ! 
there  is  nothing  like  it  in  the  country ! " 

"Well,  well!  Miss  vacTi,  I  dare  say  you  are  right. 
I  won't  touch  my  end  of  the  house,  except  to  put  the 
weather-cock  up  where  it  used  to  be,  because  I  have 
always  lived  here.  For  here,  Miss  vdch,  I  came  when 
I  was  married ;  here  my  boy  was  born ;  and  from  this 
door  my  wife's  funeral  went,  so  here  I'm  going  to  stay 
as  long  as  I  live." 

"  Oh,  I  am  glad,"  said  Barbara.  "  I  was  afraid 
you  were  working  up  to  some  great  change,  Phil." 

The  old  man  chuckled  with  pleasure  at  her  evident 
relief. 

"  No,  no ! "  he  said,  "  I  am  not  going  away,  but 
listen  again  to  the  picture  that  is  quite  plain  before 


136  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

my  eyes  to-day.  Over  this  door  there  was  a  big  porch, 
thatched  like  the  roof,  and  full  of  swallows'  nests — 
that  is  gone  long  ago — broken  and  burnt,  I  dare  say, 
in  the  mill-kiln,  but  there's  boards  in  the  shed,  and 
branches  in  the  woods  and  straw  in  the  barn,  and  Seth 
Jenkins,  the  carpenter,  will  soon  build  it  for  me.  Yes, 
yes !  I  have  done  all  the  thinking,  and  settled  it  in  my 
mind — all  the  outside,  you  know — as  for  the  inside, 
well,  perhaps  a  kind  little  lady  who  comes  down  the 
hill  sometimes  to  see  me  will  help  with  that." 

"  Oh,  Phil,"  said  Barbara,  again  clasping  her 
hands,  "  what  delightful  work !  Why,  it  will  keep 
me  busy  for  months,  for  I  know  what  beauties  are 
hidden  in  the  mill-house — to  scrape  off  the  whitewash 
from  the  old  oak  panels ;  to  shine  up  the  banisters 
and  the  brown  beams!  Oh,  Phil,  we'll  do  it  ourselves, 
with  Peggy  to  help  us." 

"  Yes,  and  Seth  Jenkins,"  and  the  miller's  face  was 
as  full  of  interest  as  the  girl's. 

"Oh,  Phil!     When  can  I  come?" 

"Well,  there's  lots  to  be  done,"  said  Paul,  shaking 
his  head.  "  'Twill  take  a  month  to  get  it  ready." 

"  But  if  it's  all  done  before  I  come,  I  won't  like  that 
at  all.  I  want  to  work,"  said  Barbara.  "  Work  fills 
up  the  time,  Phil,  and  helps  you  to  forget  sad  things." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  tnfrch-i"  said  the  old  man,  "  so 
come  you  when  you  like,  but  come  in  with  me  now,  for 
I  have  opened  the  door  where  the  porch  is,"  and 
together  they  entered  the  old  gable. 


CHAPTER    X 

THE  sun,  like  a  round  ball  of  fire,  was  sinking 
in  a  grey  haze  behind  the  snow-clad  bank  which 
lay  between  the  old  mill  and  the  west.  White  and 
pure  and  shadowless  the  landscape  lay,  hidden  under 
a  mantle  of  snow,  which  had  fallen  upon  it  softly  and 
silently  the  night  before  while  men  slept.  A  clump  of 
pine  trees  in  the  foreground  stood  black  and  clearly 
marked  against  the  sky,  while  on  the  left  the  Meivon 
woods  stretched  their  brown  curves  towards  the  coast. 
The  rooks  were  circling  round  the  tree-tops,  prepara- 
tory to  settling  down  for  the  night,  and  the  wings  of 
the  pigeons  caught  the  red  glint  of  the  sunlight  as 
they  flew  home  to  their  cot  on  the  mill-gable. 

Barbara  was  standing  at  the  broad  casement  win- 
dow, her  back  turned  to  as  cosy  a  scene  of  homely 
comfort  as  could  be  imagined.  The  room  which  she 
and  Phil  had  renovated,  and  called  out  of  its  sleep  of 
years,  had  well  repaid  their  labours.  The  warm  yel- 
low colouring  of  the  walls  blending  harmoniously  with 
the  brown  oak  carving,  and  the  long  strip  of  crimson 
carpet  running  the  whole  length  of  the  polished  floor 
were  sufficient  in  themselves  to  make  a  pleasing  pic- 
ture to  the  eye  ;  for  the  rest,  the  furniture  was  worn 
and  shabby,  but  suitable  to  its  surroundings.  It  was 
a  bright  and  sunny  room  in  the  daylight,  but  it  was 
at  its  best  in  the  gloaming,  when  the  glow  of  the 
flaming  logs  made  flickering  shadows  on  the  walls,  and 
picked  out  the  heavy  beams  and  oak  panels  with  its 
ruddy  light. 

Barbara  had  stood  for  some  time  looking  out  over 

137 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 

the  winding  road  that  led  round  the  hill  to  Maen- 
trevor,  where,  although  the  sky  was  clear,  the  heavy 
fall  of  snow  made  her  doubtful  lest  Tom  should  be 
unable  to  come  as  usual  to  their  homely  tea-dinner  ; 
but  here  he  is  in  Dr.  Rees's  gig,  the  wheels  all  clogged, 
and  Fanny's  coat  steaming  in  the  frosty  air.  She  drew 
back  the  heavy  bolt  of  the  door  of  the  cheerful  room 
which  opened  out  on  to  the  green  through  the 
thatched  porch. 

"Oh,  Tom  !  I'm  so  glad!"  she  said.  "I  was 
afraid  you  couldn't  come;  and  I  have  a  brace  of  par- 
tridges for  tea  that  Phil  gave  us.  I  said  we  wouldn't 
touch  them  unless  he  came  in  and  had  tea  with  us,  but 
he  declared  he  wouldn't  come  within  smelling  distance 
of  them." 

"  Good  old  Phil ! "  said  Tom,  divesting  himself  of 
his  great  coat  and  muffler.  "  You  can't  think,  Bar- 
bara, how  picturesque  the  place  looks,  as  you  come 
in  sight  of  it;  the  vane  is  quite  a  success,  too." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Barbara ;  "  but  though  it  was 
well  greased  in  its  socket,  it  yet  squeals  in  a  high  wind." 

"  Of  course  it  does,"  said  Tom.  "  I  wouldn't  give 
twopence  for  a  weather-cock  that  didn't  squeal,  and 
as  for  this  room,  it  is  first-rate." 

"  Isn't  it  ? "  said  Barbara,  sitting  down  to  the 
table.  "  Now  come  to  tea,  for  here's  Peggy  with  the 
partridges." 

"Hello,  Master  Tom  bach!"  said  Peggy,  as  she 
approached  the  tea-table ;  "  ach-y-fi!  you  are  not 
going  to  eat  these  smelling  birds,  are  you?  " 

"Wait  a  bit,  and  see,"  said  Tom,  as  he  attacked 
the  savoury  dish.  "  And  how  d'you  like  this  cold 
weather?"  he  said,  with  his  mouth  full;  "regular 
Christmas,  isn't  it  ?  " 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          139 

"  Well,  we're  getting  on  pretty  well,  indeed,  and 
Miss  vdch  is  quite  contented  in  this  common  old 
place." 

Peggy  had  never  taken  kindly  to  the  change 
from  Caefran  to  the  mill,  as  it  robbed  her  of  the  dis- 
tinction of  which  she  was  so  proud,  namely,  her  con- 
nection with  Caefran,  not  only  with  the  personal  mem- 
bers of  the  family,  but  with  the  traditional  importance 
of  the  place  itself.  "  Yes,  yes,"  she  said,  setting  her 
arms  akimbo,  preparatory  to  a  chat ;  "  'tis  all  very 
well  for  Miss  vdch  to  keep  her  face  as  smiling,  and  as 
smooth  as  an  angel;  but  in  my  deed,  I  can't  do  it  in 
this  old  tumbledown  place,  when  I  bin  used  to  Caefran 
all  my  life." 

"Well,  that  was   tumbledown   enough,"   said  Tom. 

"  Well,  yes,  but  it  was  tumble  down  respectable 
there.  Although  Miss  vdcJi  has  been  so  clever  with 
her  curtains  and  her  screens  and  things,  we  got  the 
old  sacks  of  corn  under  the  same  roof  with  us,  and  the 
old  mill  growl,  growl,  growl,  all  day,  ach-y-fi,  no! 
'Tis  a  quiet,  genteel  home  I  am  liking,  whatever;  but, 
there!  so  long  as  you  two  are  content,  anything  will 
do  for  me,  but  'tis  a  rat-eaten  old  hole,"  she  added 
as  she  left  the  room. 

"  Oh !  she  doesn't  like  it  at  all,"  said  Barbara ; 
"  but,  Tom,  if  only  dear  mother  were  here  I  should  be 
perfectly  happy;  but  there's  always  that  big  'if 
which  we  have  to  get  used  to." 

"Yes,"  said  Tom,  and  with  the  new  train  of 
thought  which  Barbara's  words  had  suggested,  the 
look  of  care,  which  he  seemed  to  have  cast  off  on  his 
first  arrival,  returned,  and  he  grew  silent  and  thought- 
ful, and  she  watched  him  rather  uneasily,  wishing 
that  she  had  not  spoken  so  unguardedly. 


140  UNDER      THE     THATCH 

"Will  you  help  me  to  put  up  this  holly  by  and  by, 
Tom  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Well,  of  course,"  he  said. 

"  A  bunch  over  the  doors  and  one  over  the  win- 
dows will  be  enough." 

"And  there's  Essylt,"  said  Peggy,  bursting  in 
upon  them  without  ceremony,  "  as  lazy  as  she  can  be ! 
I  don't  know  what's  come  to  the  girl,  not  I,"  and  hold- 
ing out  her  hands,  palms  upwards,  she  crooked  her 
fingers  like  the  claws  of  a  crab.  "  There,  see ! "  she 
said,  "  five  fingers  on  each  hand,  able  to  work  and  not 
willing — that's  Essylt." 

"Well,  she  ought  to  be  doing  all  the  work  for  you 
now,"  said  Tom. 

"  Oh,  pwr  thing !  she's  very  good,"  said  Peggy. 
"  She's  doing  all  she  can  for  me ;  but,  there !  who  can 
keep  an  old  rat-hole  tidy  ?  "  and  Tom,  having  learnt 
wisdom  from  experience,  let  the  matter  drop. 

"  Splendid  partridges !  "  he  said,  as  he  crunched  a 
bone  between  his  teeth.  "  I  wonder  who  shot  them  ?  " 

"  Oh,  well  !  I've  learnt  not  to  ask  that  kind  of  ques- 
tion," said  Barbara. 

"By  the  by,"  said  Tom,  "what  d'you  think?  Mr. 
Preece's  niece  is  coming  to  stay  with  him.  D'you 
remember  her? — that  pretty  girl  who  came  to  see  us 
last  year — Mabel  Hume  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do.  I  am  so  glad,"  said  Barbara. 
"  'Twill  make  a  change  for  you.  You  must  bring  her 
up  here  some  day,  Tom,  and  I  am  sure  that  she  would 
like  to  see  the  old  mill." 

"  Oh !  I  am  not  likely  to  see  her,"  said  Tom 
moodily;  "besides,  I  don't  suppose  she'd  care  to  come 
up  here." 

"  Why  not,  dear  ?  "  said  Barbara.     "  Indeed,  you 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          141 

mustn't  look  on  the  dark  side  of  everything,  Tom. 
You  are  very  much  changed ;  you  make  me,  very  un- 
happy sometimes.  You  must  shake  off  this  gloom,  or 
it  will  grow  upon  you.  Think,  what  would  dear 
mother  tell  you  to  do  ?  " 

"  Changed ! "  said  Tom,  pushing  his  plate  away, 
and  rising  from  the  table ;  "  yes,  I  know  I'm 
changed — a  dark  cloud  seems  hanging  over  me;  I 
can't  shake  it  off.  How  you  can  go  about  with  a 
calm,  serene  brow,  I  can't  imagine." 

"  Why  not,  Tom  ?  Let  us  face  it  out,"  said  Bar- 
bara, following  him,  and  linking  her  arm  in  his. 

"  I  feel  that  I  dare  not  look  into  the  past,"  said 
Tom.  "  You  know  what  I  mean,  Barbara  ?  " 

"  Yes !  let  us  look  straight  at  the  face  of  the  phan- 
tom that  frightens  you.  I  will  look  back  with  you, 
and  with  every  second  of  that  terrible  hour  clearly 
pictured  before  me,  I  will  tell  you  that  I  regret  noth- 
ing of  what  I  did  then;  but,  on  the  contrary,  I  am 
thankful  to  remember  I  opened  the  door  for  dear 
mother's  escape  from  pain.  Tom,  I  did  nothing 
wrong;  why  do  you  grieve  about  it?  " 

"  Child,  you  don't  realise  what  you  have  done. 
Don't  you  see  that  you  have  rendered  yourself  answer- 
able to  justice  by  your  action?  You  have  broken  the 
laws  of  God  and  man.  I  am  always  in  dread  lest  it 
should  be  found  out.  I  picture  you  taken  away, 

imprisoned,   tried,    and   perhaps "    and    here    he 

buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  "  and  here  you  are  as 
calm  and  happy  as  you  were  when  we  roamed  the  old 
Caefran  garden  together.  One  thing  only  I  am 
thankful  to  remember — no  one  knows  of  it  but  our- 
selves." 

"No,  no  one,  so  do  set  your  mind  at  rest,  Tom  ; 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 

not  that  I  should  care  if  the  whole  world  knew. 
Would  you  have  wished  me  to  let  dear  mother  go  on 
suffering  ?  " 

"  That  is  nonsense,"  said  Tom  irritably.  "  Shall  I 
never  make  you  understand  what  you  have  done  ? 
You  would  care  if  you  found  yourself  charged  with 
murder." 

"Tom  !"  exclaimed  Barbara,  with  a  shocked  face, 
"  what  a  dreadful  idea,  and  what  nonsense  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom.  "  I  don't  want  to  frighten,  you, 
Barbara ;  and,  for  heaven's  sake,  keep  your  pure, 
placid  mind  as  long  as  you  can  ;  but  listen  to  me, 
there's  another  point  of  view  from  which  I  look  at  it. 
You've  ruined  your  matrimonial  prospects  ;  no  man 
would  marry  you  with  such  a  blot  on  your  name." 

"  Matrimonial  prospects ! "  exclaimed  the  girl, 
with  a  merry,  silvery  laugh.  "What  grand  words, 
Tom,  and  what  a  ridiculous  idea ! "  and  she  laughed 
again. 

"  Well,  that  difficulty  can  easily  be  disposed  of," 
she  said.  "  I  don't  want  to  marry  anybody,  and 
nobody  wants  to  marry  me,  so  that's  all  right  ;  you 
and  I  together,  Tom,  that  will  quite  satisfy  me  ;  and 
if  some  day  you  should  marry  somebody,  she'll  have 
to  love  me  too,  won't  she  ?  " 

The  brother  and  sister  had  been  walking  up  and 
down  the  room,  linked  arm  in  arm,  but  now  they 
stopped  and  drew  near  the  wide  open  hearth,  on  which 
a  fire  of  logs  was  burning  ;  above  the  ruddy  blaze 
rose  the  tall  mantelpiece  of  carvned  oak,  which  Phil 
and  Barbara  had  rescued  from  a  shroud  of  whitewash. 

"  Such  a  blaze  ! "  she  said,  putting  out  the  lamp. 
"You  can  smoke  in  the  firelight,  Tom,  and  I  can 
knit.  I  love  the  firelight,  and  we  can  talk  better  too." 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          143 

Tom  lit  his  pipe,  and  a  silence  fell  upon  them,  the 
silence  in  which  the  communing  of  real  friends  is  more 
perfect  than  that  of  the  most  eloquent  words. 

"  Yes,  as  you  say,  dear,"  he  said  at  last,  and  evi- 
dently following  his  original  train  of  thought,  "  you 
will  have  to  put  away  from  you  the  idea  of  marriage, 
and,  by  Jove,  Barbara,  some  man  somewhere  will  lose 
the  best  wife  that  ever  lived." 

Barbara  rose  to  make  a  curtsey,  and  turned  to  a 
corner  of  the  old  room  where  the  piano  from  Caefran 
stood  in  the  flickering  shadows.  They  had  not  yet 
sufficiently  recovered  from  their  sorrows  to  sing 
together  as  they  had  done  in  happier  days  ;  but  the 
music  which  flowed  from  her  fingers  was  -soft  and 
soothing.  The  lines  disappeared  from  Tom's  face, 
and  as  the  evening  wore  on  he  lost  the  strained  look 
of  worry,  and  became  more  like  himself — the  light- 
hearted  and  merry  Tom  Owen. 

Outside,  the  night  was  clear  and  starry,  a  soft 
effulgence  in  the  east  heralding  the  rising  moon,  which 
would  soon  illumine  the  snowy  scene.  Later  on  a 
knock  at  the  door  announced  Phil,  who  seldom  let  a 
day  pass  without  a  kindly  inquiry.  "For,  in  my 
deed,"  he  said,  as  he  shook  the  snow  from  his  shoes 
under  the  porch,  "  'tis  better  than  fifty  pounds  to  me 
to  have  you  living  here  so  near  me.  I  like  to  think  of 
it  when  I  can't  sleep  in  the  night  because  the  mill  is 
silent ;  then  'tis  pleasant  to  me  to  remember  that  little 
miss  is  under  the  thatch  with  me,  and  the  owls  in  the 
gable  too." 

"And  the  bats,"  said  Barbara,  laughing;  "there's 
a  colony  of  them  up  there  somewhere,  for  I  have  seen 
them  flying  out  in  the  summer  evenings  when  I  have 
been  passing  this  way." 


144.          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"Well,  pwr  things-,  they're  not  hurting  anyone, 
so  let  them  be,"  said  Phil. 

"  Yes,  let  them  be,  indeed ;  I'll  be  good  friends  with 
-them  all." 

"  Heard  from  Michael  lately  ? "  asked  Tom,  when 
the  old  man  had  seated  himself  on  the  edge  of  a  chair 
which  Barbara  brought  him. 

"  Heard  from  Maychael  ?     Yes,  oh,  yes  ! " 

"  When's  he  coming  home  ?  "  said  Tom. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Phil,  and  he  said  no  more, 
which  caused  Tom  to  look  at  him  in  surprise,  for, 
generally  speaking,  his  son  Michael  was  a  subject 
upon  which  he  loved  to  dilate — his  tricks  when  a  boy, 
his  pranks  when  a  youth,  his  success  as  a  student — 
but  to-night  he  was  silent,  and  could  not  be  induced 
to  smoke  or  to  chat. 

"  Poor  old  fellow !  "  said  Tom,  when  he  had  gone ; 
"there's  something  up  there,  Barbara;  evidently 
he's  not  coming  home." 

"I  suppose  not,"  and  those  few  quiet  words  veiled 
a  disappointment  which  she  would  have  been  unwilling 
to  confess  even  to  herself.  Almost  unconsciously  she 
had  pictured  that  open  manly  countenance,  those 
clear  blue  eyes  ;  had  heard  the  firm  step,  the  resonant 
voice,  the  words  of  approbation  of  her  work  and 
Phil's,  when  he  should  enter  one  evening  in  the  glow 
of  the  firelight,  and  now  the  knowledge  that  she  must 
miss  all  this  was  hidden  behind  those  simple  words, 
"I  suppose  not." 

At  last  the  lights  were  out,  the  doors  were  bolted, 
and  the  house  was  left  to  the  silence  and  darkness  of 
the  December  night.  In  the  solitude  of  her  own  room, 
when  she  laid  her  head  on  her  pillow  that  night,  Bar- 
bara unwillingly  realised  the  truth  that  she  had 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          145 

missed  Michael  Lloyd's  presence  out  of  her  life  ever 
since  he  had  said  to  her  in  the  Caefran  drive,  "  Do 
you  know  how  hard  it  is  for  me  to  leave  you  ?  "  And 
now  the  knowledge  that  he  would  not  return  home  for 
Christmas  was  a  disappointment  to  her. 

She  thought  over  Tom's  strange  fancies,  too,  and 
wondered  whether  there  was  any  real  foundation  for 
them,  and  then  his  words,  "  No  man  would  marry 
you,"  returned  to  her  mind  with  a  little  stab  of  pain. 
NO  !  no  man  would  marry  her,  perhaps,  if  he  knew, 
and  she  could  never,  marry  any  man  without  telling 
him ;  so  the  only  way  to  evade  this  difficulty  was  never 
to  be  married  at  all.  Well,  nobody  wanted  to  marry 
her,  and  she  did  not  want  to  marry  anyone,  but  she 
would  have  liked  to  have  been  friends  with  Michael 
Lloyd.  Yes,  how  different  everything  would  be  if 
Michael  Lloyd  and  she  were  friends — only  friends; 
and  when  she  had  reached  this  point  she  awoke  sud- 
denly from  her  dreams,  for  surely  she  heard  a  sound 
somewhere  in  the  old  empty  house,  a  stealthy  footstep, 
a  gliding  movement  as  though  someone  were  passing 
slowly  through  the  long  passage  that  ran  the  whole 
length  of  the  house.  She  listened  eagerly,  the  blood 
surging  in  her  veins,  her  heart  throbbing  in  her  ears. 
Yes,  for  certain  that  cautious  footfall  was  cross- 
ing the  landing,  where  the  bare  oak  stairs  descended 
to  a  side  door  that  opened  out  into  the  yard  and 
garden. 

This  was  not  the  first  time  that  she  had  been 
startled  in  the  dead  of  night  by  these  mysterious 
sounds,  a  creeping  footstep,  a  trailing  garment,  a 
creaking  stair,  and  then  a  silence.  She  had  kept 
these  fancies  to  herself,  but  to-night  her  nerves  were 
shaken,  she  feared  for  Tom.  What  if  it  should  be  he 


146  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

walking  in  his  sleep?  He  looked  anxious  and  worried 
enough  for  such  a  climax;  and  without  waiting  to 
consider  the  matter  she  rose,  and  throwing  a  shawl 
over  her  shoulders,  made  her  way,  by  the  faint  light 
of  the  moon,  to  the  door,  and  raising  the  latch — for 
they  were  all  thumb  latches  in  the  mill — she  passed 
out  on  to  the  landing,  and  tried  to  pierce  the  gloom 
of  the  passage.  It  was  empty,  but  surely  she  had  seen 
a  dark  figure  disappear  into  one  of  the  empty  rooms, 
which  had  been  requisitioned  for  storing  some  of  the 
old  furniture  which  Phil  had  bought  long  ago  with 
the  house?  She  listened  again  for  the  sound  that  had 
disturbed  her,  but  all  was  still  as  death. 

When  she  reached  the  lumber-room  her  heart  beat 
loudly  with  suspense  and  excitement,  for  the  door  was 
open,  and  she  felt  certain  that  when  she  had  passed  it 
half  an  hour  earlier  it  had  been  closed;  and  as  she 
entered,  she  saw,  by  the  faint  moonlight,  a  figure 
standing  motionless  at  the  further  end  of  the  room. 

"  Who  is  that  ? "  she  asked  in  a  firm  voice,  her 
courage  returning,  as  she  saw  it  was  a  woman,  and 
not  Tom,  as  she  had  feared.  Instead  of  flying  from 
her,  the  grey  figure  turned,  and  approached  her 
rapidly,  coming  quite  close  to  her  with  an  almost 
threatening  swiftness.  Startled,  she  stood  perfectly 
still,  and  repeated  her  question,  "Who  is  it?"  when, 
to  her  astonishment,  the  woman  lowered  the  grey 
garment  which  had  covered  her  head  and  shoulders 
and  Essylt's  face  appeared  in  the  gloom,  the  faint 
light  of  the  moon  giving  her  always  colourless  fea- 
tures a  ghastly  pallor;  the  heavy  lids  were  wide  open 
now,  and  it  seemed  to  Barbara  that  those  grey-green 
eyes  shone  in  the  darkness  with  a  weird  light. 
"  Essylt  !  "  she  exclaimed, 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          147 

"  Barbara  Owen !  "  was  the  girl's  answer ;  "  yes,  it 
is  I.  What  do  you  want  with  me  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  want  creeping  about  the  house  in 
the  dead  of  night,  Essylt  ?  " 

"  What  is  that  to  you  ?  "  said  the  girl,  bringing  her 
face  so  close  to  Barbara's  and  with  such  a  menacing 
look  in  her  eyes  that  the  latter  took  a  step  backwards 
in  affright ;  she  was  trembling  with  the  cold  and  with 
the  nervous  tension  of  the  encounter. 

"  How  dare  you ! "  said  Essylt,  following  her,  and 
Barbara  thought  that  even  in  that  faint  light  she 
could  see  the  red  of  her  lips.  "  How  dare  you  pry 
upon  me,  Barbara  Owen?  This  is  not  Caefran;  you 
have  no  right  to  order  me  here.  I  am  my  own  mis- 
tress, and  I  can  wear  a  blue,  or  a  red,  or  a  yellow 
necklace,  as  I  please.  D'you  remember  that  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Barbara  ;  "  I  don't  care  what 
sort  of  a  necklace  you  wear  ;  only  I  don't  want  to  be 
frightened  at  night  by  stealthy  footsteps  creeping 
about  the  house.  Why  don't  you  finish  your  work  in 
the  daylight,  and  lie  still  at  night  ?  " 

"  And  why  don't  you  lie  still  at  night  ?  "  said 
Essylt,  in  a  voice  that  trembled  with  passion.  "  What 
are  you  crawling  about  after  me  for  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  know  it  was  you,  although  I  might  have 
guessed,  for  I  never  liked  your  mysterious  ways, 
Essylt.  I  could  not  sleep  to-night,  and  that  is  how 
I  came  to  hear  your  footsteps.  You  forget  yourself 
strangely  to  speak  to  me  in  that  insolent  tone.  I  am 
sure  that  Phil  would  not  approve  of  your  roaming 
about  the  house  like  this  in  the  dead  of  night,  when 
everybody  else  is  in  bed." 

"  Go  back  to  bed  yourself,  then,"  said  Essylt. 
"  Maybe  you'll  sleep  sounder  when  I  have  told  you  a 


148  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

few  things  that  you  ought  to  know.  To  begin  with, 
then,  I  don't  care  a  pin  for  you  or  Phil.  Jane 
Tyissa  is  his  servant  now,  and  that's  all  right ;  I  am 
not  going  to  do  anything  more  for  him.  You  have  all 
trodden  upon  me,  and  trampled  on  me  long  enough. 
Look  at  the  difference  between  us,  only  why,  I'd  like 
to  know.  You,  pampered  and  spoilt  all  your  life,  and 
I  working  hard,  shabby,  and  poor,  without  schooling. 
But  listen  you,  Barbara  Owen,  though  no  one  has 
taken  the  trouble  to  teach  me,  there  are  some  things 
which  I  do  know,  and  some  you  shall  know  to-night. 
First,  I  know  of  a  girl  who  pretended  to  nurse  her 
mother  tenderly,  but  who  grew  tired  of  her  complain- 
ing, and  could  not  wait  for  death  to  come,  but  gave 
her  a  dose  to  put  an  end  to  her.  Do  you  know  that 
girl,  eh  ?  "  and  as  she  spoke,  her  voice  grew  hoarse 
with  intense  passion.  Shocked  and  frightened,  Bar- 
bara had  shrunk  still  further  away  from  her,  but 
again  Essylt  followed  her,  and  in  a  strange,  vindictive 
whisper  repeated,  "  Do  you  know  her  ?  " 

Regaining  her  usual  courage,  and  in  a  clear,  firm 
voice,  Barbara  said,  "  No,  I  don't  know  such  a  dread- 
ful girl." 

"  Dear  anwl  !  you  don't,  indeed.  Well,  then,  mark 
you,  I  do;  and  listen  again.  I  know  a  girl  who  has 
given  her  heart  away  before  she  was  asked  ;  perhaps 
you  don't  know  her,  Barbara  Owen,  but  I  do,  and  I 
will  tell  you  one  or  two  more  things  that  perhaps  it 
will  be  better  for  you  to  know.  First,  the  man  to 
whom  that  girl  has  given  her  heart  was  bound  long 
ago  to  me,  and  when  he  comes  home  in  the  spring  it 
will  be  to  marry  me — Essylt  Lewis,,  and  not  you, 
Barbara  Owen;  and  now,  perhaps,  you  will  sleep 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          149 

better  for  what  I  have  told  you,  and  not  roam  about 
to  pry  after  me." 

There  was  a  vindictive  tone  in  her  voice  that  aston- 
ished Barbara,  accustomed  as  she  had  been  to  think 
of  Essylt  only  as  a  stolid,  unintelligent  peasant  girl 
with  no  great  depth  of  character.  No  wonder,  there- 
fore, that  she  stood  aghast  at  this  revelation  of  the 
girl's  bitter  anagonism. 

Outraged,  insulted,  perishing  with  cold,  she  could 
only  answer  in  a  voice  that  trembled  as  much  as 
Essylt's  did  :  "  You  dreadful  girl  !  Why  are  you 
filled  with  such  revengeful  feelings  against  me?"  But 
she  was  not  sure  that  Essylt  had  even  heard  her,  for 
with  the  last  words  of  her  invective  she  had  drawn  her 
grey  shawl  over  her  head  again,  and  had  passed  out 
of  the  room.  Barbara  heard  the  door  close  behind  her, 
and  knew  that  her  tormentor  had  gone.  But  though 
chilled  to  the  bone,  her  teeth  chattering  with  the  cold, 
she  was  still  unable  to  follow  at  once  into  the  passage ; 
for  now  a  real  physical  fear  held  her  in  its  grip — 
fear  of  the  girl  who  had  so  often  shared  her  simple 
home-life  with  her,  but  who  now  seemed  changed  into 
a  fury,  whose  eyes  gleamed  with  hatred,  and  whose 
whispered  words  were  barbed  with  cruel  suggestion; 
and  dreading  to  meet  her  again  on  the  landing,  she 
stood  a  few  moments  in  the  bitter  cold. 

Barbara  heard  the  north  wind  driving  by  the  old 
gable,  the  hail  that  beat  in  gusts  against  the  pane, 
and  in  the  ivy  that  clumped  its  thatch,  heard  the  owl's 
lonely  plaint  of  the  wintry  storm,  before  she  finally 
found  courage  to  seek  the  shelter  of  her  own  room. 
Oh !  for  a  quiet  corner  where  she  could  rest  her  aching 
head  and  hide  her  face,  for  Essylt's  words  had  not 


150  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

only  wounded  her,  but  had  humiliated  her  deeply. 
With  all  her  good  qualities,  her  courage,  her  unsel- 
fishness, her  guileless  simplicity  of  character,  she  had 
a  strong  vein  of  pride  in  her  nature,  and  to  feel  the 
inner  secrets  of  her  heart  laid  bare  was  a  keen  trial 
to  her,  and  as  she  sank  back  on  her  bed,  Barbara,  the 
brave  and  practical,  felt  strangely  crushed  and 
beaten.  Was  it  possible,  then,  that  the  love  she 
had  hidden  so  carefully  had  been  discovered  by  Essylt? 
And  could  it  be  that  she,  Barbara  Owen,  felt  sore  and 
miserable  because  a  man  who  was  almost  a  stranger  to 
her  was  attracted  by  the  peasant  girl,  who  was  in  a 
manner  her  servant,  and  evidently  her  enemy  ?  And 
what  did  she  care  ?  Or  if  she  did,  who  would  dare 
to  suspect  it  ?  She  saw  through  the  latticed  window 
the  clouds  which  swept  over  the  face  of  the  moon  ; 
she  heard  the  shrill  squeal  of  the  weather-cock  as  it 
veered  about  in  the  wind,  and  she  pictured  the  snow- 
white  world  lying  all  around  her  ;  and  a  sense  of 
strange  desolation  swept  over  her  spirit — a  mood  that 
was  so  unusual  to  her,  and  so  foreign  to  her  nature, 
that  she  cowered  under  its  influence  as  she  had  never 
done  before.  But  it  was  not  long  before  the  courage 
and  nerve  which  were  never  very  far  from  her  heart 
returned,  and  in  her  clear,  level  head,  the  mists  seemed 
to  lift,  and  she  thought  within  herself,  "  If  I  did 
wrong  about  dear  mother's  death,  she  knows  it  was 
my  deep  love  for  her  which  enabled  me  to  do  it,  and 
God  will  forgive  me  if  I  made  a  mistake.  I  am  not 
afraid,  and  then — that  dreadful  girl  could  never  have 
seen  any  signs  that  I — that  I — liked  Michael  Lloyd ; 
it  is  only  her  fancy,  and  her  strong  suspicions,  so  I 
can  go  on  hiding  it.  There  are  two  things  disposed 
of  ;  but — but — it  is  true  that  I  love  him,  yes,  indeed, 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          151 

it  is  true,  true,  true,  but  this,  again,  I  can  hide,  oh, 
yes!  I  can  hide  it  all,  and,  as  Tom  said,  I  must  never 
think  of  marrying,  so  what  does  it  matter?  "  And 
with  these  words,  "what  does  it  matter?  "  on  her  lips, 
she  fell  asleep.  And  while  the  strong  clouds  chased 
each  other  across  the  sky,  and  the  white  owls  still 
"tuw-hooed;"  from  the  ivy  in  the  gable,  she  slept  on 
peacefully. 

And  where  was  Essylt?  Frozen  and  chilled  as  Bar- 
bara had  been,  and  thwarted  in  her  intention  of  leav- 
ing the  house  unseen,  she  was  now  bending  over  the 
fire  in  the  old  mill  kitchen ;  she  held  her  fingers  to  the 
glow ;  broke  up  the  culm  fire  that  never  goes  out,  but 
is  always  ready  day  or  night  to  warm  and  cheer  with 
its  steady  light,  and  hanging  the  kettle  on  the  chain, 
made  herself  a  cup  of  tea,  and  drawing  the  rush-stool 
to  the  ingle  nook  she  sat  there  apparently  absorbed  in 
busy  thought,  while  she  drank  the  hot  and  comforting 
draught. 

The  meeting  with  Barbara  in  the  lumber-room 
seemed  to  have  excited  her  strangely,  for  when  she  had 
finished  her  solitary  meal  she  rose  to  pace  up  and  down 
the  dark  kitchen  in  the  red  firelight.  Her  hands 
were  clenched  and  crossed  upon  her  bosom  in  the 
attitude  of  a  prayerful  saint,  but  the  words  that 
dropped  from  her  lips  sometimes  showed  they  were  not 
prayers  which  she  was  muttering;  once  or  twice  she 
moaned  as  if  in  pain,  and  at  last  turned  towards  the 
staircase  and  dragged  her  slow  steps  wearily  up  to  her 
own  room,  where,  although  she  lay  down  in  her  bed,  as 
Barbara  had  done,  sleep  refused  to  come  at  her  call, 
and  although  she  watched  the  black  clouds  hurrying 
by,  as  Barbara  had  done,  they  did  not  suggest 
thoughts  of  peace  or  comfort  to  her  restless  heart. 


CHAPTER    XI 

CHRISTMAS  had  passed,  and  the  new  year  had 
come  in  with  a  general  dispersal  of  clouds,  both  real 
and  figurative.  Tom  seemed  decidedly  brighter  since 
the  advent  of  Mr.  Preece's  niece,  whose  presence  in 
the  house  seemed  to  reach  him  even  through  the  glass 
door  and  the  long  passage  which  separated  the  office 
from  the  dwelling-house. 

Through  this  glass  door  he  had  seen  Mr.  Preece  pass 
in  and  out  many  times  in  the  day  for  six  years  without 
being  sufficiently  interested  to  notice  that  the  blue 
silk  with  which  it  was  curtained  at  the  back  was  torn 
and  gaping.  Now  that  tear  in  the  curtain  claimed  his 
frequent  attention,  for  through  it  he  could  see 
through  the  dark  passage  into  a  bright  little  green- 
house, where  naturally  the  flowers  required  attention, 
and  sometimes,  by  a  rare  chance,  a  little  white  figure 
might  be  seen  bending  over  them,  glimpses  of  which 
made  it  difficult  for  Tom  to  concentrate  his  thoughts 
upon  such  mundane  affairs  as  legal  documents. 
Nevertheless,  the  wrinkle  between  his  eyes  became  less 
pronounced,  his  round  face  grew  less  ,serious,  and  his 
voice  regained  a  good  deal  of  its  old  cheery  ring. 

Time  had  in  a  great  measure  softened  the  memory 
of  his  mother's  death,  and  what  he  called  Barbara's 
false  step  was  not  so  continually  present  to  his  mind 
• — indeed,  he  might  be  said  to  have  forgotten  it  en- 
tirely, except  when  a  chance  word  recalled  it  to  his 
memory,  and  at  such  times  he  would  fall  into  a  fit  of 
brooding  thought,  which  was  quickly  dispelled,  how- 
ever, by  a  chance  meeting  with  the  "  Angel  of  the 

152 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          153 

House,"  or  even  a  glance  at  her.  He  had  ceased 
to  frighten  himself  and  Barbara  with  prognostications 
of  evil,  although  deep  down  within  his  heart  there 
still  lurked  a  feeling  of  guilt. 

To  the  old  mill  the  new  year  had  not  brought  with 
it  so  much  cheer  and  brightness.  The  snow  had  long 
ago  melted  away,  the  daffodils  were  beginning  to  peep 
shyly  from  their  sheathing  blades,  the  clouds  broke 
up  and  showed  the 'blue  sky  between  their  silver  edges, 
and  yet  the  spring  held  back,  and  only  sprinkleld  here 
and  there  a  primrose,  here  and  there  a  showery  gleam, 
and  this  chill  and  variable  weather  was  typical  of 
the  state  of  Barbara's  feelings.  The  cold,  dark  winter 
was  over,  and  with  the  bounding  hopes  and  instincts 
of  youth  coursing  in  her  veins  she  longed  for  the 
spring,  the  season  of  sunshine  and  flowers,  though  over 
her  heart  a  shadow  of  disquiet  had  fallen. 

Tom's  oft-repeated  forebodings  had  not  been  with* 
out  their  effect,  and  though  she  was  perfectly  free 
from  that  cruellest  scourge  of  the  spirit,  an  uneasy 
conscience,  she  had  gradually  opened  her  eyes  to  the 
fact  that  she  had  committed  a  sin  against  the  laws  of 
human  society  that  would  mark  her  name  with  an 
ineradicable  stain  were  the  manner  of  her  mother's 
death  laid  bare  to  the  eyes  of  the  world — "  the  cruel 
hard  world,"  she  thought,  "  which  would  never  under- 
stand how  I  loved  her,"  and  she  realised  with  all  the 
clear  insight,  which  was  a  special  trait  of  her  char- 
acter, that  should  the  opportunity  of  marriage — the 
crowning  blessing  of  a  woman's  life — ever  be  hers,  she 
must  turn  from  it,  must  put  it  away  from  her  firmly. 
She  must  live  her  life  alone,  for  no  man  she  knew,  not 
one  of  God's  creation,  would  overlook  what  he  as  well 
as  Tom  would  call  "  her  false  step  " ;  or  was  there  one 


154          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

anywhere  who  would  have  understood  her,  would  have 
looked  upon  her  action  in  the  light  of  reason  and  love? 
Perhaps  there  had  been  one,  but  he  had  gone  out  of 
her  life  ;  Michael  Lloyd  was  dead  to  her,  he  had  fallen 
from  the  pedestal  upon  which  she  had  unconsciously 
placed  him,  had  preferred  the  love  of  an  ignorant  and 
unrefined  peasant  girl  to  hers. 

It  was  a  scathing  thought  to  one  of  such  a  proud 
nature  as  Barbara's,  and  she  had  set  herself  to  crush 
the  love  that  had  awakened  in  her  heart  even  before 
she  was  aware  of  it.  "  For  shame,  Barbara  ! "  she  cried 
in  the  solitude  of  her  own  room,  alone  in  the  dark 
night,  where  none  could  hear  her,  save  the  ear  that 
hears  the  cry  of  the  sorrowful,  and  marks  the  spar- 
row's fall.  "How  could  I  fall  so  low?  Why  should 
I  ever  have  thought  he  cared  for  me?  Just  a  flower 
given  to  me  in  the  orchard! — just  a  hand-press! — 
just  the  words,  'I  would  like  you  to  know!'  And  I, 
Barbara  Owen,  have  laid  myself  open  to  this  mortify- 
ing sorrow,"  and  she  strove,  and  not  unsuccessfully, 
to  overcome  her  interest  in  the  peasant-doctor.  She 
had  banished  him  from  her  heart,  so  she  thought,  and 
was  treading  her  folly  under  foot  as  she  followed  the 
path  of  her  simple  life. 

There  was  plenty  of  hard  work  to  keep  her  thoughts 
from  brooding  regrets,  for  every  corner  of  the  mill 
gable  must  be  cleaned  and  swept ;  the  old  oak  panels 
must  be  rubbed  up,  even  the  quaint  carved  beam-ends 
must  be  polished,  so  that  the  evening  often  found  her 
healthily  tired,  and  ready  to  seek  her  rest  in  the  low- 
raftered  room,  above  which  the  owls  hooted  in  the 
gable  point. 

All  her  life  she  had  been  accustomed  to  fall  asleep 
almost  as  soon  as  she  had  laid  her  head  on  her  pillow, 


UNDER     THE     THATCH  155 

but  of  late  she  had  lain  awake,  sometimes  for  hours, 
always  with  the  same  thought  running  through  her 
brain — "  It  is  certain  that  I  must  never  marry,  and 
therefore  it  is  nothing  to  me  that  Michael  Lloyd  pre- 
fers Essylt."  A  hundred  times  she  went  over  the  same 
subject  in  her  mind,  and  always  it  seemed  plain  and 
clear  that  Fate  had  arranged  affairs  in  a  most  satis- 
factory manner,  and  she  deceived  herself  with  the 
thought  that  Michael  Lloyd's  conduct  had  made  it 
perfectly  easy  for  her  to  look  upon  his  action  with  in- 
difference. 

Essylt  she  seldom  saw,  for  the  girl  seemed  strangely 
reserved  and  almost  morose,  rarely  leaving  her  own 
cottage  except  to  roam  alone  through  the  woods 
around  Llyn  Dystaw,  and  Barbara  instinctively 
avoided  any  chance  meeting  with  her.  Phil  she  had 
not  seen  for  several  days,  which  was  unusual,  for  a 
strange  desire  for  his  company  had  grown  upon  her 
of  late;  there  was  some  unspoken  sympathy  between 
them  which  made  Barbara's  frequent  calls  upon  the 
old  man's  time  a  delight  to  him,  and  a  great  pleasure 
to  them  both.  But  on  this  first  bright  day  of  March, 
when  the  daffodils  were  out  in  clumps  on  the  green, 
and  the  birds  declared  from  the  branches  that  spring 
had  really  come,  and  the  earth  was  full  of  rejoicing, 
she  heard  the  sound  of  grinding  from  the  mill,  and 
soon  after  breakfast  she  passed  round  to  the  wide- 
open  door,  and  entering,  found  Phil  sitting  on  the 
steps  leading  to  the  grain-loft,  where  Michael  had  sat 
to  make  his  confession.  He  was  looking  grave  and 
thoughtful,  a  hand  on  each  fat  knee ;  much  of  his  florid 
colour  had  faded  from  his  face,  and  there  was  a  dull 
red  light  in  his  eyes  as  if  kindled  by  a  smouldering  fire. 

"  Hallo,  Miss  vdch,"  he  said,  as  Barbara  entered. 


156  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  In  my  deed,  there's  glad  I  am  to  see  you ;  there's  not 
a  single  thing  in  this  old  world  but  what  chops  and 
changes  like  that  weather-cock  on  the  gable  except 
you,  merch-i;  your  little  face  is  always  the  same,  and 
your  voice  is  always  soothing  to  my  ears.  Come,  now ! 
here's  some  beautiful  fresh  oatmeal  for  you  just 
ground;  taste  it,  smell  it.  That  quart  is  for  you, 
over  there  on  the  window.  There'll  be  cawl  llaeth  for 
supper  to-night,  be  bound;  Peggy  knows  how  to  make 
it,"  and  he  laughed  with  a  little  of  his  former  jovial- 

ity. 

"  Indeed,  there's  kind  you  are,  Phil,"  said  Barbara ; 
"  but,  you  naughty  man,  d'you  know  what  day  it  is  ? 
'Tis  the  first  of  March,  and  you  haven't  got  a  leek  in 
your  buttonhole." 

"  Well,  in  my  deed,  no  more  I  haven't ;  I  forgot  all 
about  it." 

"  Why,  in  London  there  are  more  leeks  worn  to-day 
than  in  the  country ;  that's  a  shame,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  we've  got  nothing  to  remind  us  of  it  here, 
you  see,"  said  Phil  gloomily,  looking  round  the  mill 
floor,  the  wheels,  the  kiln,  as  if  he  expected  a  reminder 
from  some  of  them.  While  he  spoke  a  bit  of  bright 
colouring  crossed  their  line  of  vision  through  the  mill 
door — Essylt's  red  petticoat,  and  the  green  and  white 
of  a  bunch  of  leeks,  which  she  was  carrying  in  for  the 
cawl,  not  for  the  glorification  of  St.  David.  Her  thick 
clumps  of  colourless  hair,  her  red  lips,  her  weird  beauty, 
seemed  to  strike  the  old  man  with  a  cruel  sharpness, 
and  he  turned  his  eyes  upon  the  girl  with  a  sudden 
start.  "  The  devil  take  her ! "  he  exclaimed,  and  Bar- 
bara opened  her  eyes  at  the  impetuous  tone.  She 
shrank  a  little  too,  as  the  bright  picture  caught  her 
eye. 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          157 

"  She's  only  passing  to  her  own  home,"  she  said  in  a 
deprecating  tone  of  voice. 

"  Let  her  pass  then,"  said  Phil  angrily ;  "  let  her 
pass  out  of  my  sight,  and  out  of  my  life,  for  I  tell 
you  she  has  brought  bitterness  and  gall  to  me,"  and 
he  brought  his  fist  down  heavily  upon  his  knee. 
"  Listen  you  to  me,  Miss  vdch,"  he  said,  with  the  fiery 
gleam  in  his  eyes  that  altered  their  expression  so  much ; 
"  listen  you  to  me,  and  you  will  understand  why  she 
has  blasted  my  life."  His  voice  grew  hoarse,  and  Bar- 
bara stood  amazed  at  the  change  in  the  old  man's 
face.  "  My  son,"  he  said,  "  my  son  Michael !  He's 
nothing  to  you,  but  he  was  everything  to  me;  he  was, 
mind  you,  but  he's  not  now,  oh,  no!  Michael  Lloyd 
is  no  more  to  me  now  than  any  farm  lad  who  brings 
the  corn  to  be  ground." 

The  rumbling  and  clapping  of  the  mill  filled  the 
air,  but  Barbara  was  getting  used  to  it,  and  Phil 
heard  it  not,  so  he  continued  undisturbed: 

"  Perhaps  you  did  not  know,  merch-i,  that  he  was  as 
precious  as  my  two  eyes  to  me." 

"  Yes,"  nodded  Barbara ;  "  I  knew,  Phil,  as  precious 
as  my  mother  was  to  me." 

"  That's  it,  that's  it,  but  listen  you,  then.  After 
all  my  love  and  care  for  him,  after  all  the  money  I 
have  spent  on  him,  after  all  the  money  that  I,  and  my 
father  before  me,  and  his  two  uncles,  for  the  matter  of 
that,  have  toiled  to  save  for  him,  what  d'you  think, 
merch-i?  he's  going  to  marry  Essylt — that  common, 
lazy  huzzy!" 

It  was  true,  then,  and  the  blood  surged  up  into  Bar- 
bara's face;  but  she  kept  her  voice  well  under  control, 
as  she  answered  quietly.  "Is  that  so,  indeed,  Phil?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  man,  "  there's   gratitude  for 


158  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

you;  there's  a  good  son  coming  home  from  London 
to  comfort  his  father's  last  years !  I  tell  you  he's  com- 
ing home  in  the  spring  to  marry  that  slut,  begging 
your  pardon,  Miss  vdch,"  he  added,  taking  out  his 
red  pocket-handkerchief  and  drying  his  heated  fore- 
head ;  "  to  marry  her,  mind  you,  that  croten,  only  fit 
to  clean  his  shoes;  but  where  he's  going  to  take  her 
to  live  I  don't  know,  not  here,  that's  all  I  can  tell 
you.  No,  no,  Maychael  Lloyd  shall  never  more  come 
under  this  roof." 

"But  if  he  loves  her?"  said  Barbara  faintly;  she 
scarcely  knew  her  own  voice,  it  was  so  weak  and  thin. 

"Love  her?"  said  Phil.  "Love  her,  indeed!  What 
do  they  know  about  love  in  these  days?  That  was 
love  long  ago  when  I  stole  my  wife  away  on  her 
wedding-day.  'Twas  to  Morris  Llwyngerwn  she  was 
going  to  be  married,  but  she  hated  him,  and  she  loved 
me,  and  on  the  day  of  her  wedding — 'twas  a  horse- 
wedding,  you  see,  and  then  'twas  the  fashion  for  one 
of  the  company  to  ride  away  with  the  bride,  and  for 
all  the  rest  to  ride  after  them,  for  'twas  only  a  joke, 
and  the  bridegroom  was  always  allowed  to  catch  her 
at  last;  but  'twas  no  joke  between  Nance  and  me,  and 
Morris  Llwyngerwn  never  caught  his  bride,  for  she 
rode  away  with  me,  and  we  were  married  at  the  regis- 
trar's office  in  Caermadoc,  and  Nance  and  I  led  a 
happy  life  together  in  the  old  mill,  until  the  Lord  took 
her  from  me,  and  left  me  and  my  little  lad  to  live  on 
together  as  best  we  could." 

The  expression  of  the  old  man's  face  had  changed 
while  he  had  recounted  the  story,  which  was  well  known 
through  the  country-side ;  the  sullen  angry  look  had 
disappeared  from  his  eyes,  his  florid  face  had  recov- 
ered gome  of  its  good-humoured  expression,  and  his 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          159 

firm  mouth  with  its  square  jaw,  which  reminded  Bar- 
bara so  much  of  his  son,  had  fallen  into  a  tender  smile 
as  he  recalled  the  memories  of  long  ago,  but  suddenly 
the  light  died  out  of  his  face,  the  angry  look  returned 
to  his  eyes.  "  Love,  indeed !  "  he  said  scornfully.  "  Be 
bound  that's  not  your  idea  of  love,  dear  heart.  No, 
no,  don't  tell  me;  you  would  know  what  real  love 
meant." 

"  But  why,  then,  is  he  marrying  her?  "  said  Bar- 
bara. "  Surely,  Phil  bach,  he  must  love  her." 

"  No,"  thundered  the  old  man  as  he  brought  his 
fist  down  again  on  the  stair  beside  him ;  "  if  it  was 
that,  look  you,  I  believe  I  could  find  it  in  my  heart  to 
forgive  him ;  but  'tis  not  that,  Miss  Barbara.  Listen 
you  now  while  I  tell  you  what  a  fool  my  son  Maychael 
Lloyd  is,  and  you  will  laugh  when  you  hear  it,  for  you 
must  laugh  or  cry  at  such  folly.  Well,  then,  eight 
years  ago,  when  he  was  but  a  laddy  of  twenty,  he  de- 
ceived his  old  father,  and  went  a-courting  that  lazy 
huzzy  with  the  hair  like  tow,  and  the  lips  like  red  seal- 
ing-wax, and  the  white-lidded  eyes  like  the  crocodiles. 
She  was  but  sixteen,  and  he  asked  her  to  marry  him, 
and  no  need  to  say,  she  said  '  yes,'  and  he  promised 
• — the  fool! — to  come  back  and  marry  her  some  day, 
and  she  waited,  and  waited,  and  now  the  time  has  come 
when  he  must  fulfil  his  promise,  if  you  please,"  and 
he  laughed  aloud,  a  grating  laugh,  but  a  laugh  that 
had  no  mirth  in  it,  and,  rising  excitedly  from  the 
grain-loft  stairs,  and  coming  up  close  to  Barbara,  he 
laid  the  case  before  her,  emphasising  his  points  with 
the  hard  finger  of  one  hand  on  the  palm  of  the  other. 
"  Now  just  you  think  of  it,  merch-i,  here's  Maychael 
my  son  makes  a  foolish  promise — worse  than  foolish, 
a  wicked  promise,  because  he  knew  very  well  'twould 


160  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

be  hateful  to  his  old  father  if  he  knew  of  his  conduct. 
Well,  now,  when  years  have  passed,  and  Dr.  Maychael 
Lloyd  is  one  of  the  cleverest  men  in  all  the  London 
hospitals,  when  he  writes  so  many  letters  at  the  end  of 
his  name,  and  when  he  is  consulted  by  the  biggest  doc- 
tors sometimes,  when  his  father  has  laid  down  his 
heart  for  him  to  walk  over;  now,  at  such  a  time,  he's 
going  to  throw  all  his  good  name  away  by  marrying 
a  common  country  girl,  without  learning,  without 
money,  without  anything  but  a  shock  of  tow  on  her 
head,  and  a  face  that  has  something  too  strange  in  it 
even  to  look  pretty — and  just  because  he  promised 
eight  years  ago  to  do  this  wicked  thing.  Now  was 
there  ever  such  a  fool?  Come,  dear  heart,  speak  you 
out  your  mind,  and  although  once  I  wouldn't  hear  a 
word  against  my  boy,  now  I  won't  be  angry  if  you 
call  him  a  d .  fool." 

"  Oh,  Phil !  "  said  Barbara,  "  but  I  couldn't  call  him 
that — I  couldn't  say  such  a  word;  indeed,  I  never 
heard  you  using  such  language  before." 

"  No,  no,  Miss  vdch,  in  my  deed  I  don't  know  what 
I  am  saying,  and  before  you  too,  ach-y-fi!  " 

Barbara  looked  out  through  the  mill  door,  where 
the  spring  sunshine  was  picking  out  the  celandines 
and  daisies  on  the  green  which  Essylt  had  just  crossed; 
she  looked  back  into  Phil's  face,  where  she  saw  none 
of  the  peace  and  content  that  it  had  worn  in  the  past ; 
she  hated  to  add  to  the  old  man's  annoyance,  she  hated 
to  speak  the  words  that  came  up  from  a  sore  heart, 
and  her  eyes  drooped  to  the  mealy  floor  where  she  was 
marking  little  crosses  with  the  points  of  her  shoes. 
"  But,  Phil,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  cannot  blame 
him — a  promise  is  binding  upon  an  honourable  man ; 
it  was  wrong  to  promise,  perhaps,  but  having  done  so, 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          161 

I   can't   imagine   Dr.    Michael  Lloyd   doing   anything 
else  but  keep  his  word." 

Phil's  jaw  fell,  his  face  grew  purple  with  resent- 
ment, and  he  fixed  his  eyes  reproachfully  upon  her. 

"Not  blame  him?" 

"  No,"  said  Barbara ;  "  I  would  despise  him  if  he 
did  not  keep  his  word." 

Phil  gasped,  and  sat  down  on  the  steps  again  to  re- 
cover himself.  "  Not  blame  him ! "  he  repeated. 
"  You,  Miss  Barbara — well,  on  my  soul!  I  see  now 
that  I  am  a  dull,  blind,  stupid  old  fool,  mistaken  in 
everything,  deceived  on  all  sides.  I  thought,  I  thought 
that  you — well,  never  mind  what  I  thought.  I  have 
awoke  from  my  dreams,  and  my  thoughts — well,  well !  " 
and,  leaning  his  elbow  on  his  knee,  he  drew  his  red 
handkerchief  over  his  face  as  if  to  hide  the  working 
of  his  features. 

It  was  some  time  before  Barbara  ventured  to 
speak. 

"  Phil,"  she  said  at  last,  touching  his  big  rough 
hand,  "  I  am  so  sorry,"  but  he  flung  her  hand  away 
from  him  and  rose  to  his  feet,  drawing  himself  up  to  his 
full  height,  and  digging  his  hands  into  his  coat  pockets, 
he  stood  up  before  her — the  image  of  sturdy  defiance. 
"  I  want  no  man's  pity,  and  no  woman's  either ;  we've 
had  enough  of  such  nonsense.  Let  the  past  alone — 
'tis  the  first  of  March  to-day,  and  there's  a  big  Cynes 
coming  in  from  Tyncoed.  I  must  be  busy.  Good-bye, 
Miss  vacli.  Take  your  oatmeal  with  you,  and  tell 
Peggy  to  make  it  nice  for  you." 

"  Good-bye,  Phil,"  said  Barbara,  lingering  a  mo- 
ment at  the  doorway,  and  looking  back  from  the  sun- 
shine into  the  old  shadowy  mill. 

Phil  waved  his  hand  and  turned  to  the  kiln,  where 


162 

the  oats  were  fully  roasted  and  ready  to  be  run  into 
the  trough  below. 

She  turned  towards  her  own  door  in  the  west  gable 
so  absorbed  in  her  thoughts  that  she  was  unaware  of  a 
country  gig  passing  along  the  road  that  crossed  the 
green.  It  stopped  opposite  the  mill,  one  of  its  two 
occupants  alighting,  and  turning  towards  the  wide- 
open  door,  where  the  sound  of  the  grinding  and  the 
rushing  of  water  met  one  like  a  wall  of  solid  sound;  a 
shadow  fell  on  the  floor,  and  Phil,  turning  from  his 
work  to  look  for  the  cause,  saw  at  the  doorway  a  tall, 
broad-shouldered  figure,  whose  every  curve  and  line 
was  familiar  to  him. 

It  was  Michael  Lloyd  entering  with  his  hands  to 
his  ears  in  a  half-playful  remonstrance.  "Hallo, 
father ! "  he  said,  dropping  his  hands.  "  How  are 
you?  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  nothing  should  ever  come 
between  you  and  me?  That's  one  way  of  looking  at 
things,  you  see,"  he  said,  sitting  down  on  a  bench 
which  was  generously  adorned  with  his  own  initials, 
accompanied  by  successive  dates  from  the  years  of  his 
boyhood  upwards;  but  Phil  went  steadily  on  with  his 
work,  letting  the  hot  oats  run  through  the  wooden 
funnel  into  the  big  mill  measures. 

"  Stop  the  mill  a  moment,  father,"  said  the  new- 
comer, and  Phil,  acquiescing  silently,  put  the  big  pin 
into  the  notch  that  stopped  the  grinding,  and  a  dead 
silence  followed,  broken  only  by  the  "  chicking  "  of  the 
hens,  and  the  "  cheeping "  of  the  sparrows  outside. 
"  I  have  been  three  days  at  Maentrevor,"  said  Michael, 
"  and  I  couldn't  go  back  to  London  without  knowing 
how  you  are.  Come,  you  will  give  me  a  word  of  greet- 
ing, father;  it  cannot  alter  things,  you  see,  whether 
you  do  or  not.'1 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          163 

"  Hast  come  home  to  marry  that  robber's  daughter, 
Maychael  Lloyd?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  young  man ;  "  that  will  be  next 
month,  father.  I  came  home  to  see  you  now."  But 
before  he  had  ceased  speaking  Phil  had  slipped  the  pin 
out  of  its  socket;  the  clumsy  old  mill  went  thundering 
on,  and  further  speech  was  impossible.  He  turned  his 
stolid  face  to  his  work,  and  Michael  sat  dangling  his 
hat  between  his  knees.  Once  only  did  he  attempt  to 
shake  the  old  man's  stolid  obstinacy.  "  Father,"  he 
said ;  but  Phil  dropped  a  sack  with  a  thud  heavy,  and 
paid  no  more  attention  to  his  son's  words  than  he  did 
to  the  chickens  which  pecked  in  the  doorway. 

Michael  sighed,  and  sat  silent  for  a  few  moments, 
looking  round.  Every  wheel,  every  beam,  every  chain, 
seemed  familiar  to  him,  seemed  a  part  of  his  very 
being,  and  the  strong  man  owned  to  himself  that  such 
material  things  as  these  could  lay  a  spell  upon  a 
spirit,  for  they  reached  back  to  the  time  when  youth 
and  health,  and  perhaps  happiness,  were  his  heritage, 
and  as  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  turned  slowly  towards 
the  wide-open  door,  he  looked  again  towards  Phil;  but 
neither  in  his  face  nor  in  his  figure  could  he  see  the 
least  sign  of  relenting.  "  Good-bye,  father,"  he 
shouted,  and  took  a  few  steps  in  advance  with  out- 
stretched hands ;  but  the  milller  made  as  if  he  had  not 
heard  him,  and  turning  his  back,  walked  away  into 
the  shadowy  background. 

Disappointed  and  deeply  wounded,  MSchael  went 
out,  and  turning  his  steps  further  up  the  green, 
reached  Peggy's  door,  which  stood  wide  open  to  the 
sunshine,  and  with  the  usual  "Hallo,  anybody  at 
home?  "  he  entered,  to  find  the  mistress  of  the  house 
busily  kneading  a  trough  of  dough. 


164  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  Well  in  my  deed !  "  she  exclaimed,  holding  up  two 
floury  hands.  "  Maychael  Lloyd !  Iss  it  you  then, 
ser?" 

"  Sir,  Peggy?  Don't  be  ridiculous,  woman.  Since 
when  have  I  been  *  sir '  to  you?  " 

"  Sit  down,  then,  machgen-i,"  she  said  with  a  nod  of 
her  head  towards  a  round-backed  chair,  which  stood 
by  the  hearth.  "  Ser  to  me !  Well,  you  ought  to 
have  been  that  long  ago,  only  my  old  tongue  is  stiff 
to  turn  into  new  ways,  and  'tis  Maychael  you  have 
been  to  me  since  the  first  day  I  came  here  to  live,  when 
mestress,  pwr  thing,  was  first  married.  Dear,  dear! 
there's  quick,  time  is  passing !  "  and  she  covered  up  the 
dough  and  washed  her  arms  before  seating  herself 
opposite  Michael  on  the  three-legged  stool.  "  Yes,  as 
I  was  saying,"  she  continued,  unceremoniously  taking 
off  her  apron  and  putting  on  a  clean  one,  "  'tis 
Michael  you  have  been  to  me  always,  my  lad,  until  the 
day  before  yesterday,  when  I  was  in  Maentrevor,  and 
saw  the  grand  carriage  from  Havod  stopping  to  speak 
to  you,  and  there's  saluting  you  the  colonel  was,  and 
the  ladies  full  of  smiles  and  blushes,  in  my  deed ;  there's 
proud  I  was  to  see  it ! " 

"Nonsense,  Peggy,"  said  Michael;  but  he  blushed 
a  deep  red,  for  the  thought  of  the  incident  re- 
minded him  unpleasantly  of  the  step  he  was  about  to 
take. 

"Where's  that  croten  Essylt  now?"  said  Peggy. 
"  She  ought  to  be  here  to  get  you  a  glass  of  ginger- 
beer,  machgen-i,  or  would  you  like  a  basin  of  cawl? 
'Tis  just  ready,  and  I'm  not  ashamed  of  my  cawl 
anywhere,  though  March  is  a  bad  time  of  the  year  for 
it." 

"  Not   to-day,   thank   you,   Peggy,"   said   Michael, 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          165 

"  though  I  know  what  good  cawl  you  make.  But  where 
is  Essylt?" 

"  Oh,  the  Lord  knows !  "  said  Peggy.  "  'Tis  very 
little  of  her  company  I'm  getting,  for  between  you  and 
me,  macligen-i,  she's  grown  very  lazy  of  late ;  she  used 
to  mix  the  dough  always,  but  never  now,  and  in  my 
deed  she  was  doing  it  so  badly  that  I  would  rather 
knead  it  myself.  Well,  then,  she  used  to  knit  a  bit, 
sitting  here  by  the  fire,  but  never  now,  oh,  dear,  no, 
hands  on  her  lap,  face  as  serious  as  a  judge,  eyes  fixed 
on  the  fire,  doing  nothing;  that's  Essylt,  never  speak- 
ing to  me,  only  sighing  as  if  the  cow  was  dead." 

"What  is  she  grieving  about?"  said  Michael,  a 
strong  pity  kindling  within  him  at  the  thought  that 
perhaps  the  long  waiting  was  telling  upon  the  spirits 
of  the  girl,  and,  nerving  himself  for  the  ordeal,  he 
plunged  into  his  subject.  "Well,  'tis  about  Essylt  I 
came  to  speak  to  you,  Peggy.  I  may  as  well  tell  you 
in  a  few  words  that  she  and  I  have  agreed  to  be  mar- 
ried next  month,  and  I  have  come  in  this  morning  to 
ask  your  consent." 

The  effect  of  his  words  was  startling,  for  Peggy 
jumped  to  her  feet  with  the  agility  of  a  girl  and  stared 
at  Michael  silently,  while  she  reached  from  the  dresser 
shelf  close  at  hand  three  blue-rimmed  basins  which 
stood  there,  one  within  the  other,  and  while  she  reached 
them  let  us  explain  that  in  Wales,  and  amongst  her 
class,  there  exists  a  traditional  manner  of  receiving 
an  announcement  of  the  matrimonial  intentions  of  any 
member  of  the  family;  even  where  the  marriage  may 
be  one  which  is  satisfactory  from  every  point  of  view, 
it  is  incumbent  upon  the  female  heads  of  the  two 
families  to  receive  the  first  intimation  of  it  with  every 
appearance  of  disapprobation — more  than  that,  of  vio- 


166  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

lent  antagonism.  In  this  case  Michael's  words  seemed 
to  have  roused  a  host  of  sleeping  passions  in  Peggy's 
heart,  for  she  flung  one  basin  on  the  hearth,  breaking 
it  into  a  hundred  pieces,  and  drawing  a  step  nearer 
to  Michael,  threw  the  second  defiantly  at  his  feet,  and 
the  third,  as  if  losing  all  control  of  her  feelings,  she 
hurled  across  the  room,  crashing  it  against  the  further 
wall,  until  the  floor  was  littered  with  broken  crockery, 
and  Michael,  looking  in  astonishment  at  the  excited 
woman,  burst  out  laughing. 

"Peggy,  woman!  What  is  the  matter  with  thee?  " 
he  asked;  but  Peggy's  temper  was  not  to  be  so  easily 
subdued.  She  was  not  sorry  to  have  the  opportunity 
of  giving  vent  to  her  feelings,  which  had  been  some- 
what ruffled  that  morning  by  an  altercation  with  Es- 
sylt.  She  was  always  able  to  weep  copiously  at  fu- 
nerals, and  to  rejoice  hilariously  at  weddings,  so  that 
her  presence  was  much  sought  after  at  both  of  these 
functions,  and  to-day  she  saw  no  reason  why  she  should! 
control  the  expression  of  her  outraged  sense  of  what 
was  fitting. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  me ! "  she  exclaimed  in 
strident  tones,  which  might  have  been  heard  across  the 
green,  had  there  been  anyone  to  listen.  "Enough  is 
the  matter  with  me.  I,  an  innocent  little  country 
woman  standing  here  in  my  cottage,  mixing  my  dough, 
and  not  thinking  about  anything  but  the  cawl  bubbling 
on  the  fire,  and  the  chickens  waiting  to  be  fed,  and 
in  come  you,  Maychael  Lloyd,  a  man  who  has  raised 
himself  to  be  the  equal  of  big  London  doctors,  and  of 
ladies  and  qualities,  driving  in  carriages,  and  Colonel 
Lloyd  shaking  hands  with  you  as  if  you  were  the  King, 
and  here  you  are  coming  bouncing  in  upon  me  sud- 
denly, and  saying,  'Peggy  Lewis,  I  want  thy  leave  to 
marry  thy  niece  Essylt.'  Why,  she's  not  suiting  thee, 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          167 

man ;  she's  used  to  make  a  curtsey  to  the  gentries,  and 
not  to  shake  hands  with  them,  as  you  are  doing;  she 
has  not  had  any  schooling,  and  she's  quite  content 
with  me  here  in  the  mill  cottage.  Well,  indeed — • 
that's  a  story,  because  she's  very  discontented;  but," 
she  interpolated,  "  she's  not  dreaming  of  such  a  thing 
as  to  marry  a  man  so  much  above  her,  and  here  you 
are  coming  to  upset  everything,  to  break  your  old 
father's  heart,  and  to  make  him  angry  with  me,  Peggy 
Lewis,  that  have  been  friends  with  him  so  many  years 
— oh,  oh!"  and,  breaking  down  entirely,  she  sobbed 
and  cried,  with  something  between  a  wail  and  a  howl, 
until  only  the  roaring  of  the  mill  prevented  Phil's  hear- 
ing her. 

"  Hush !  hush !  woman !  Dost  want  the  whole  of 
Cwm  Meivon  at  the  door?  "  said  Michael. 

"  Cwm  Meivon ! "  screamed  Peggy.  "  What  do  I 
care  for  Cwm  Meivon ;  no,  nor  Maentrevor  either.  'Tis 
only  people  who  do  wrong  that  are  afraid  of  their 
neighbours.  'Tis  you,  Maychael  Lloyd,  are  afraid 
of  them,  for  you  know  there  isn't  a  man  amongst  them 
but  would  cry  *  shame '  upon  you  disturbing  a  happy 
home  like  this.  Caton  Pawb!  is  there  any  sense  in 
such  a  thing?  Everybody  would  be  pointing  at  me 
and  saying,  *  There's  the  woman  whose  niece  married 
Dr.  Maychael  Lloyd — she's  only  fit  to  clean  his 
house !  *  and  with  another  noisy  burst  of  sobbing  she 
sat  down  on  the  three-legged  stool  with  her  elbows  on 
her  knees,  and,  burying  her  face  in  her  hands,  cried, 
"  Oh,  pwr  Phil  bach,  who  brought  up  his  son  like  the 
apple  of  his  eye,  and  spent  all  his  money  in  learning 
him,  and  was  thinking,  of  course,  he  would  marry  a 
lady  like  himself,  and  now,  here's  the  boy  turning 
round  and  marrying  Essylt  of  the  mill  cottage ! " 

'*  Tchwt,   tchwt,  Peggy ! "  said  Michael,  rising  to 


168  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

his  feet.  "  I  didn't  expect  to  raise  such  a  storm  about 
my  ears.  I  thought  it  was  right  to  tell  thee,  as  I 
see  Essylt  has  never  done  so." 

"  Essylt  tell  me  such  a  thing?  No,  she  wouldn't 
dare  to  tell  me,  the  sly  huzzy;  but  I'll  tell  her,  when 
she  comes  in,  what  I  think  of  her,  and,  mark  you,  May- 
chael  Lloyd,  I'll  never  come  to  your  wedding;  no,  I'll 
stop  at  home  to  comfort  poor  Phil,  because  I  know 
this  will  break  his  heart,"  and  again  she  fell  to  crying 
aloud,  until  a  farm  lad,  who  was  passing  on  the  road, 
crossed  the  green  and  looked  in  at  the  open  door  and 
asked,  with  round  eyes,  "What  is  the  matter?" 

"What  is  the  matter?"  said  Peggy,  a  little  more 
quietly.  "  'Tis  bad  news  I've  had  by  the  post,  Ifan 
bach,  and  that's  the  matter.  'Tis  my  husband's  sister 
had  a  daughter,  and  she's  dead  quite  sudden,  and 
that's  enough,  Ifan  Jones." 

"  Oh,  b't  shwr,"  said  the  lad,  meekly  turning  away, 
"  I'm  sorry." 

"I'm  sorry,  too,"  said  Michael,  taking  advantage 
of  a  lull  in  the  storm.  "  I  am  sorry  that  I  can  do 
nothing.  Good-bye,  Peggy,  you  have  a  warm  heart, 
and  you  are  a  true  friend — two  precious  things  to 
lose  in  one  morning.  Fforwel  then — you  can  tell  Es- 
sylt what  I  have  said." 

"  Tell  Essylt ! "  the  indignant  woman  called  after 
him.  "  Not  I,  I'll  carry  none  of  your  messages ;  I'll 
never  turn  against  my  old  friend,  Phil-y-Velin." 

"  God  bless  her ! "  he  muttered  as  he  turned  away 
from  the  door.  "  As  true  as  steel,  in  spite  of  that  fib 
about  her  sister-in-law's  daughter." 


CHAPTER   XII 

NOT  until  the  next  evening  did  Michael  Lloyd  turn  his 
steps  towards  the  porch  of  the  west  gable.  He  had 
felt  a  strong  desire  to  see  Barbara,  to  speak  to  her,  to 
hear  her  voice  once  more,  to  tell  her  himself  of  the 
step  he  was  about  to  take,  and,  perhaps,  because  he 
was  conscious  of  this  wish,  he  had  put  off  his  visit  un- 
til the  last  evening  of  his  stay  at  Maentrevor. 

There  seemed  no  good  reason  why  he  should  seek 
an  interview  with  her  at  all,  and  yet,  surely,  he 
thought,  it  would  be  but  an  act  of  ordinary  politeness 
to  call  upon  his  father's  new  tenant,  if  only  to  inquire 
as  to  her  comfort  in  her  new  home. 

The  sun  had  already  set,  leaving  the  pale  western 
sky  without  a  cloud;  a  crescent  moon  hung  over  the 
clump  of  dark  firs  which  marked  the  foreground  of  the 
furzy  knoll  lying  between  the  mill  and  the  coast.  At 
the  broad  casement  window  Barbara  was  standing, 
her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  moon  with  its  one  bright  at- 
tendant star.  How  fleckless  that  clear  blue  sky !  How 
deep  the  shadows  in  the  glades  of  the  Meivon  woods, 
which  closed  in  the  scene  on  the  left!  How  delicious 
the  song  of  the  blackbird  in  the  thicket!  How  mu- 
sical the  ring  of  the  anvil  in  the  forge  down  the  road! 
Yes,  it  was  all  beautiful,  almost  to  pain ;  perhaps  that 
was  why  her  dark  eyes  had  a  wistfuless  that  was  not 
habitual  to  them  as  she  stood  there,  her  face  raised  to 
the  golden  moon. 

Michael  had  been  watching  her  for  some  moments, 
unobserved,  through  the  trellis  of  the  porch,  before  he 
knocked  at  the  heavy  oak  door.  It  was  quickly  opened 

169 


170  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

by  the  girl  herself;  all  sadness  had  vanished  from  her 
face,  its  serene  cheerfulness  speaking  of  no  sentiment 
except  that  of  the  ordinary  country  welcome. 

"  Well,  indeed,  Dr.  Lloyd ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  how 
kind  of  you  to  come  and  see  me,  for  I  know  your  time 
is  short,  and  how  busy  you  must  be.  Come  in,  and 
which  will  you  have,  the  firelight  or  the  moonlight?  " 

There  was  not  a  shade  of  embarrassment  in  her 
voice  or  manner,  and  when  Michael  chose  the  chair  by 
the  window  she  added,  "Yes,  you  choose  the  moon- 
light. I,  too,  was  standing  there  before  you  came 
in,  and  wondering  what  made  Tom  so  late  to-night." 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  evening,"  said  Michael,  "  and, 
perhaps,  it  has  tempted  him  to  linger  a  little  on  the 
way  home.  I  did  not  pass  him  on  the  road." 

**  Perhaps  if  he  comes  through  the  wood  he  will  be 
here  directly." 

"I  thought,"  said  Michael,  "that  I  would  like  to 
know  whether  you  were  comfortable  here,  or  whether 
there  was  anything  you  could  suggest  we  could  do  to 
make  the  home  more  habitable;  but,  upon  my  word, 
I  don't  think  I  need  ask  you  that,  for  you  have  made 
it  the  cosiest  and  most  homelike  place  I  have  ever  seen." 

"  Not  I  alone,  indeed,"  said  Barbara.  "  Your 
father  has  been  so  kind  in  letting  us  use  some  of  the 
old  furniture  which  he  had  stored  away;  it  suits  the 
place,  and  saved  our  money — not  that  we  had  any 
to  save!" 

"  And  it  does  the  furniture  good  to  air  it."  He  tried 
hard  to  be  calm,  and  as  forgetful  as  Barbara  ap- 
peared; but  for  the  life  of  him  he  could  not  banish 
the  memory  of  the  Caefran  orchard,  the  red-cheeked 
apples,  the  tea-table  under  the  branches,  Barbara's 
brown  eyes,  and  the  little  hand  that  moved  about 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          171 

amongst  the  tea-things  and,  above  all,  the  clear  voice 
that  sang: 

"Oh,  memory!  fond  memory! 
When  all  things   fade  we  turn  to  thee. " 

He  remembered,  too,  how  her  eyes  had  drooped  be- 
fore his  when  parting  from  her  he  had  said,  "  I  should 
like  you  to  know,"  and  she  had  answered,  "  I  know," 
before  she  had  run  away. 

With  an  effort  he  turned  from  these  thoughts  and 
wished  for  Barbara's  power  of  will,  for  he  was  not  de- 
ceived, he  had  seen  the  sadness  in  the  eyes  as  she 
looked  up  at  the  evening  sky,  unconscious  of  being 
observed,  the  sadness  so  carefully  banished  at  his  en- 
trance, and  he  knew,  as  surely  as  though  he  had  read 
it  in  black  and  white,  that  for  her,  as  well  as  for  him- 
self, the  interview  was  a  painful  ordeal. 

"  You  are  going  back  to-morrow  ?  "  she  asked  in  the 
blandest  of  commonplace  tones.  "  Your  father  will 
miss  you  very  much." 

"  Yes,  he  will  miss  me  more  than  usual,  I  think,  be- 
cause we  have  parted  '  not  friends,'  as  the  children 
say." 

"Indeed,"  said  Barbara  seriously.  "I  am  sorry. 
Poor  Phil !  Then  I  am  sure  he  will  be  unhappy." 

"  Yes,  he  will  be  very  unhappy,  and  I  cannot  ease 
his  pain.  Miss  Barbara,  may  I  ask  you  to  go  and  see 
him  often?  I  know  it  can  be  no  pleasure  to  you  to  sit 
in  the  meal  and  dust  to  talk  to  a  simple  old  miller; 
but  perhaps  the  knowledge  that  you  are  doing  a  good 
action  may  compensate  you." 

"Oh,  don't  make  that  mistake,"  said  Barbara.  "I 
assure  you  it  is  a  real  pleasure  to  me  to  talk  to  Phil. 
He  and  I  are  great  friends,  though  we  do  not  always 


172  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

agree  in  opinion.  He  seems  to  understand  me,  and  I 
understand  him." 

"  I  am  thankful  to  hear  that,  indeed,"  said  Michael. 

The  twilight  was  darkening,  the  moon  growing 
brighter,  and  under  its  beams  he  thought  the  girl  was 
paler  than  usual. 

"  I  earnestly  entreat  you  to  continue  to  visit  him, 
in  spite  of  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Barbara,  lifting  her  eyebrows  in 
feigned  surprise. 

"  I  have  had  a  feeling,"  he  said,  "  that  I  would  like 
to  tell  you  myself  that  I  am  going  to  be  married  next 
month." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  had  heard  that  from  Phil;  well,  indeed, 
I  must  'wish  you  joy,'  as  they  say." 

"  I  am  going  to  marry  Essylt,"  said  Michael,  ignor- 
ing her  last  words. 

"  So  I  have  heard." 

"Perhaps  you  will  wonder  how  it  came  about.  Let 
me  explain.  I  promised  to  marry  her  eight  years  ago, 
and  now  the  time  has  come  when  I  am  about  to  keep 
my  word;  that  is  all  I  want  to  say — simply  that  it  is 
an  old  promise,  and  nothing  new." 

"  But  why  tell  me  about  it?"  said  Barbara,  tossing 
her  little  proud  head,  and  holding  up  her  chin  indig- 
nantly. "  It  is  no  business  of  mine ;  in  fact,  it  is  a 
matter  of  no  interest  to  me." 

She  had  borne  up  bravely;  but  now,  in  the  dead  si- 
lence that  followed  her  last  words,  her  heart  was  beat- 
ing loudly  in  her  ears.  Michael  was  silent  too,  ap- 
parently lost  in  thought,  and  drumming  his  fingers 
softly  upon  the  table  beside  him. 

"  I  suppose  that  is  so,"  he  said  at  last  in  a  low 
voice,  as  if  he  were  speaking  to  himself ;  "  of  course  it 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          173 

is.  What  am  I  to  you?  It  is  nothing  to  you  whether  I 
am  happy  or  miserable.  I  don't  know  why,  but,  I  wish 
to  tell  you  myself  how  things  are  with  me.  I  believe 
I  hoped  you  would  form  a  less  unfavourable  opinion 
of  my  action  than  if  you  heard  it  from  a  stranger." 

Barbara  made  no  answer,  but  looked  up  again  at 
the  slender  moon,  and  the  silence  that  fell  upon  the 
old  room  seemed  to  throb  with  unspoken  thoughts. 

He  hesitated — stammered  a  little  in  his  speech. 

"I — I — I  suppose,  Miss  Barbara — Miss  Owen,  that 
we  shall  never  meet  again  alone,  and  face  to  face,  as 
we  do  to-night.  I  don't  know  why  I  don't  wish  you 
good-bye,  and  leave  you  at  once,  for  I  bear  your 
words  in  mind,  *  it  is  a  matter  of  no  interest  to  me 
what  becomes  of  you,'  but  in  spite  of  that " 

"  I  did  not  say  that  exactly,"  said  Barbara,  in 
parenthesis,  and  drooping  her  head  a  little. 

"  Not  quite  so  cruel,  was  it  ?  Well,  in  spite  of  what 
you  said,  I  have  a  strong  desire,  perhaps  a  foolish — 
even  a  wrong  desire,  to  lay  my  soul  bare  before  you 
to-night,  to  tell  you  before  I  go  away  from  you  for 
ever,  how  much  the  thought  of  you  has  filled  my  life 
of  late — how  deeply  the  memory  of  Caefran  with  its 
beautiful  mistress — your  mother,  its  flowers,  its  mu- 
sic, are  engraven  upon  my  heart;  how  strong  was  my 
affection  for  her,  for  Tom — and  for  you." 

A  host  of  memories  rushed  in  upon  Barbara's  mind, 
and  clear  in  her  ears  rang  the  words: 

"  When  all  things  fade,  we  turn  to  thee.  e 

A  sense  of  suffocation  oppressed  her.  Was  she  go- 
ing to  be  conquered  at  last  by  the  feelings  that  she  had 
so  long  held  in  check?  No,  oh,  no,  indeed!  and  un- 


174  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

consciously  she  pressed  her  hand  on  her  throat,  for 
it  seemed  as  if  her  heart  had  risen  up  there  to  throb. 
"  Oh,  no,"  she  said,  "  don't — don't,  you  will  be  sorry 
afterwards,  and  I  shall,"  she  added.  She  had  risen 
nervously  and  drawn  nearer  to  the  window,  where  the 
moonlight  fell  upon  her  face. 

"  Then  I  will  say  no  more,"  said  Michael.  "  I 
wanted  to  be  sure  that  you  understood  me  and  my 
motives." 

Again  a  deep  silence  fell  upon  them,  in  which  were 
only  to  be  heard  the  crackling  of  the  fire  and  the 
mournful  Welsh  hymn  Peggy  was  croning  in  the  next 
room. 

"Well,"  said  Michael  at  last,  with  a  determined 
effort  to  return  to  commonplace  affairs,  "  I  suppose 
I  had  better  go,  for,  as  you  say,  I  have  much  to  do," 
and  he  held  out  his  hand.  "  Good-bye,  Miss  Barbara ! 
You  will  not  refuse  to  shake  hands  with  me,  as  my 
father  has  done?  " 

"  No,"  said  Barbara ;  "  and  there  is  one  thing  I, 
too,  wish  to  say,  I  think  you  are  doing  right." 

"  Thank  you  for  saying  that ;  it  makes  things  so 
different  for  me." 

The  proud  look  died  out  of  her  face,  her  eyes 
drooped,  and  she  was  very  pale  as  she  placed  her  hand 
in  his.  He  grasped  it  eagerly,  and  retained  it  for 
some  moments  in  his  own.  Was  it  imagination,  he  won- 
dered, or  was  there  a  little  tremble  in  her  voice — just 
the  wistfulness  he  had  seen  in  her  eyes  when  he  had 
watched  her  through  the  lattice  of  the  porch? 

Raising  her  hand  to  his  lips,  he  pressed  a  fervid 
kiss  upon  it,  before  he  almost  flung  it  from  him,  so 
suddenly,  so  passionately,  that  he  apologised  in  hur- 
ried, ill-chosen  words.  "  Forgive  me — I  am — I  must 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          175 

go,"  he  said,  and  turning  to  the  heavy  door  he  opened 
it  and  let  himself  out  into  the  soft,  grey  night. 

He  crossed  the  green  to  the  highroad,  deciding  to 
follow  it  to  Maentrevor,  instead  of  taking  the  path 
through  the  wood.  Coming  straight  from  Barbara's 
presence,  he  felt  a  shrinking  from  the  associations  of 
the  woodland  path,  so  closely  connected  in  his  mind 
with  Essylt's  strange  wayward  nature.  To-night  he 
felt  that  the  broad  highroad  and  the  furzy  knoll 
would  be  more  congenial  than  the  sombre  shadow  of 
the  woods. 

At  a  bend  in  the  road  where  he  would  lose  sight  of 
the  valley  he  turned  back  for  a  last  look  at  his  old 
home.  The  mill,  with  its  moss-grown  thatch,  and  its 
whitewashed  walls,  was  looking  at  its  best.  Above 
its  gabled  point  the  restored  weather-cock  glittered  in 
the  moonlight,  and  on  the  green  in  front  of  it  the  dew- 
drops  made  diamond  spangles.  In  the  broad  case- 
ment window  the  firelight  danced,  and  further  on  in 
Peggy's  and  Essylt's  cottage  a  tiny  candle  flickered 
under  the  eaves.  The  window  of  Phil's  living-room 
was  out  of  sight  round  the  corner,  but  from  his  heaped 
wood-fire  the  smoke  was  curling  up,  and  showing  dis- 
tinctly against  the  dark  bend  of  the  Meivon  woods. 
The  mill-wheel  was  still,  and  the  trickle  of  the  stream 
scarcely  broke  the  peaceful  silence. 

A  tide  of  strong  emotion  surged  through  Michael's 
soul  as  he  stood  looking  back  at  the  familiar  scene ;  a 
longing  for  the  simple  joys  of  his  boyhood,  when 
every  desire  of  his  nature  found  its  fulfilment  in  the 
free  and  happy  life  which  he  had  led  in  that  old  mill 
and  its  surroundings.  A  deep  regret  at  the  cloud 
that  had  fallen  between  him  and  his  father,  and,  above 
all,  a  bitter  rebellion  against  the  fate  that  made  his 


176  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

parting  with  Barbara  imperative  and  irrevocable. 
Dust  and  ashes,  foolish  dreams,  thwarted  desires, 
surely  as  the  sparks  fly  upward !  He  saw  the  light 
in  Barbara's  parlour,  and  felt  that  the  vivid  impres- 
sion of  the  scene  through  which  he  had  just  passed, 
of  Barbara's  dainty  face  and  figure,  her  pallor,  the 
tremble  of  her  voice,  was  engraved  upon  his  heart  in 
lines  so  deep  that  neither  time  nor  circumstances  could 
ever  erase  it. 

At  last  he  turned  away  with  a  strong  determination 
to  banish  from  his  mind  the  sweet  picture,  as  well  as 
his  bitter  regrets.  The  familar  road  looked  strangely 
cold  and  bare  in  the  dim  light  as  it  stretched  away 
before  him ;  but  what  mattered  it,  he  thought,  the  road 
of  life  would  be  colder,  barer,  and  longer! 

It  was  one  of  those  tender  evenings,  when  the  wind 
lies  low,  as  if  wearied  with  its  frolics,  when  the  sunsets 
begin  to  linger  on  into  moonlight,  as  if  in  anticipation 
of  the  joys  of  spring,  when  the  bats  make  furtive 
flittings  from  the  eaves,  and  the  lambs  bleat  on  the 
hillside,  and  mists  rise  gently  in  the  meadows.  The 
anvil  had  ceased  its  rhythm  when  Michael  passed  the 
forge;  he  saw  in  the  distance  on  the  road  a  shadowy 
figure,  which  seemed  familiar,  and  yet  strange.  Surely 
it  was  Essylt,  with  that  sinuous  gliding  walk,  and 
yet  surely  not,  with  that  top-heavy  appearance,  and 
those  flowing  garments,  beflounced  and  bef rilled! 

Yes,  as  she  drew  nearer  he  recognised  her,  in  spite 
of  the  hat  of  exaggerated  size,  a  sweeping  feather 
curling  over  its  brim,  the  jacket  of  fashionable  town 
cut,  and  the  high-heeled  boots,  which  entirely  spoiled 
the  freedom  of  her  gait.  In  her  peasant  dress,  her  sun- 
bonnet,  and  scarlet  petticoat,  her  country-made  shoes, 
guiltless  of  heels  and  pinched  toes,  Essylt  was  pleas- 
ing, if  not  beautiful,  in  appearance ;  but  in  this  incon- 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          177 

gruous  attempt  at  town  fashions  she  looked  simply 
foolish  and  uninteresting,  and  Michael's  innate  good 
taste  shrank  from  the  sight  of  her  in  such  unnatural 
adornments,  for  he  took  no  time  to  consider  that  as 
his  wife  it  would  be  expected  of  her  to  dress  according 
to  her  social  positon. 

"  Cat  on  Pawb,  Essylt!  Is  it  thee,  lass?  Well,  in 
my  deed,  I  didn't  know  thee  at  first.  Dear  anttfll  how 
clothes  can  alter  a  woman ! " 

"  'Tis  me,  whatever,"  said  Essylt,  with  a  little  angry 
toss  of  her  head.  "  There  was  a  meeting  in  Bethesda 
Chapel  to-night,  and  I  thought  it  was  time  for  me  to 
begin  wearing  these  clothes,  because  I  suppose  before 
long  you  won't  like  me  to  be  wearing  my  '  clocs '  and 
my  hood  and  things." 

"Well,  indeed,  I  would,"  said  Michael,  "only  I  sup- 
pose it  wouldn't  do — they  are  far  prettier  than  these 
nodding  feathers  and  frills ;  but,  there !  thou  art  right, 
Essylt,  it  was  well  to  make  a  beginning,  but  'tis  a 
pity,  lass,  to  lose  our  simple  ways." 

"  Well,  indeed,  I  am  tired  of  the  old  things  al- 
ready," said  Essylt  irritably.  "  Ach-y-fi,  I  hate  them! 
and  my  back  is  aching  shocking." 

"  No  wonder,  with  thy  heels  raised  so  much  higher 
than  thy  toes,  'tis  no  wonder  thy  back  is  aching." 

"  Well,  I  might  have  known  I  couldn't  please  you, 
Michael,  and  I'm  sorry  in  my  heart  I  put  on  the  old 
clothes  at  all.  I'll  be  glad  when  I  get  home  to  take 
off  these  boots,  whatever;  I  must  sit  and  rest  a  bit," 
and  she  turned  aside  to  a  fallen  tree  trunk,  and  sat 
by  the  hedgeside. 

In  the  moonlight  her  colourless  face  looked  ghastly, 
and  there  was  a  little  tremble  in  her  voice,  which 
touched  the  strong  man's  heart. 

"  Yes,  go  home,  Essylt,  and  take  off  all  these  grand 


178  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

things,  and  come  to  meet  me  in  the  morning  in  thy 
white  hood  and  country  gown!  Thou  wilt  never  look 
better  in  my  eyes  than  when  dressed  in  them.  Remem- 
ber, 'twill  be  our  last  meeting  before  I  come  home  in 
the  spring  to  marry  thee  and  take  thee  to  that  stiff, 
square  house  in  Maentrevor,  which  thou  art  so  pleased 
with,  and  if  thou  art  pleased — well  and  good." 

"Well,  perhaps  I  will  satisfy  Peggy  by  taking  off 
these  things,  though  I  failed  to  please  thee  by  putting 
them  on.  She  was  cross  enough  this  morning,  and 
more  like  a  madwoman  than  anything  else,  crying  and 
sobbing,  and  pointing  her  finger  at  me,  and  saying — 
oh!  all  kinds  of  nasty  things,  for  Peggy  has  a  cruel 
tongue — the  old  jade!  In  my  deed,  sometimes  I  feel 
I  could  jump  into  Llyn  Dystaw,  and  put  an  end  to  it 
all ;  I'd  as  soon  be  out  of  the  world  as  in  it." 

"Essylt,"  said  Michael  sternly,  "thou  art  talking 
nonsense;  thou  art  tired  with  thy  walk,  and  angered 
by  Peggy's  temper.  I  am  sorry  in  my  heart  she  has 
worried  thee  so  much;  but  cheer  up,  merch-i,  in 
another  month  the  old  life  will  be  over,  and,  with  God's 
help,  I  will  bring  thee  brightness  and  peace,  and  make 
up  to  thee  for  the  long  years  of  worry  and  waiting; 
but  never  let  me  hear  thee  talk  that  nonsense  again 
about  Llyn  Dystaw — 'tis  not  pleasant  hearing  for 
thy  future  husband,  merch-i." '.„ 

"  Well,  go  you  on,  then,"  said  the  girl,  "  and  leave 
me  here  to  rest  a  bit." 

"Nay,  I  will  wait  with  thee,  Essylt,"  said  Michael. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said  impatiently,  with  a  little  stamp 
of  the  high-heeled  boot ;  "  go  on,  and  leave  me.  I 
hear  a  footstep  coming." 

"What  matter?" 

"  Go,  I  tell  thee,"  she  said  almost  fiercely.     "  I  am 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          179 

sick  of  walking  and  talking;  let  me  be,"  and  with  an 
indulgent  shrug  of  his  shoulders  Michael  turned  away, 
a  look  of  depression  settling  down  upon  his  usually 
cheerful  face — one  of  those  mysterious  fits  of  despond- 
ency that  sometimes  weigh  down  the  human  heart, 
inexplicable  as  they  are  unconquerable,  had  fallen 
upon  his  spirit. 

In  the  topmost  branches  of  the  trees  that  bordered 
the  road  there  was  a  sighing  and  a  whispering  which 
seemed  scarcely  accounted  for  by  the  light  breeze  that 
was  blowing  in  from  the  sea.  The  western  sky  was 
still  clear,  but  from  the  east  a  bank  of  heavy  clouds 
was  sending  its  flying  legions  towards  the  moon,  and 
to  Michael's  weary  heart  there  seemed  no  light  in  the 
present,  no  hope  in  the  future,  no  God  behind  those 
lowering  clouds,  only  a  dull  foreboding  of  evil. 

Alas,  poor  human  nature !  how  easily  are  the  bravest 
and  strongest  tossed  upon  the  waves  of  passing  cir- 
cumstances. 

In  another  moment  he  had  come  to  a  standstill,  and 
was  hunting  vigorously  in  all  his  pockets.  "Hang  it 
all ! "  he  said.  "  I  have  left  Dr.  Rees's  book  at  the  mill 
» — of  course,  on  the  little  high  window  outside  the 
door.  Well,  it  will  be  safe  there  till  I  get  it!"  And 
looking  at  his  watch  he  saw  that  an  appointment  with 
a  patient  made  it  impossible  to  return  in  search  of  it 
at  once.  "  Well,"  he  said,  resuming  his  rapid  walk, 
"I  must  go  back  later;  another  tramp  through  the 
wood  to  Cwm  Meivon  will  not  hurt  me." 

He  did  not  love  these  sylvan  glades  as  he  had  done 
in  his  boyhood  and  youth;  his  meetings  there  with 
Essylt  had  robbed  the  place  of  its  earlier  romance, 
and  latterly  it  was  always  with  a  curious  distaste  that 
he  walked  through  those  once-loved  paths,  so  closely 


180  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

associated  were  they  with  Essylt's  presence  and  her 
wayward  moods.  All  this  was  in  his  mind  as  he  went 
on  his  way  towards  the  town. 

He  was  scarcely  out  of  sight  before  Essylt  rose  to 
her  feet,  turning  slowly  homewards.  Her  footsteps 
dragged  a  little,  perhaps  because  of  the  boots,  but  it 
could  not  have  been  they  that  caused  the  puckered 
forehead  and  the  hard-set  lips,  which  gave  the  pale 
face  a  weird  unnatural  look  of  sullen  anger. 

At  the  turn  of  the  road  she  came  in  sight  of  the  mill, 
standing  under  the  wood,  a  picture  of  rustic  peace 
and  comfort,  its  curves  and  gables  catching  the  golden 
light  of  the  moon.  In  one  broad  window  the  firelight 
glowed,  and  within  a  shadow  passed  and  repassed 
athwart  the  light.  Essylt  guessed  rightly  that  it  was 
Barbara,  whose  restless  figure  thus  moved  about  in 
the  firelight.  With  the  keen  instinct  of  a  suspicious 
nature  she  thought :  "  He's  been  there,  no  doubt,  to 
say  good-bye,  full  of  pleasant  words  and  tender  looks, 
be  sure,  and  then  when  he  met  me  he  only  laughed  at 
me,"  and  her  red  lips  curled  themselves  into  a  scornful 
smile.  She  drew  nearer  to  the  window,  not  far  re- 
moved from  her  own  doorway,  and  as  the  figure  inside 
approached  and  receded,  so  did  that  on  the  outside 
draw  nearer  and  shrink  back  alternately. 

Barbara,  all  unconscious  of  being  observed,  some- 
times stopped  to  watch  the  broken  clouds  that  were 
beginning  to  veil  the  stars  in  the  eastern  sky,  her 
clear-cut  features  plainly  revealed  against  the  shad- 
owy background  of  the  old  room.  At  such  times 
Essylt  peered  at  her  curiously,  easily  hiding  herself 
behind  the  clumps  of  ivy  that  climbed  up  the  walls. 
An  angry,  even  vindictive  look  settled  on  her  face, 
and  she  clenched  her  hands  fiercely,  muttering,  as 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          181 

she  turned  away  to  her  own  door,  "  No  need  to  ask 
what  she  is  thinking  of;  I  know,  I  know  too  well;  let 
her  think,  that  will  be  all  her  share  in  the  matter." 

"  Well,"  said  Peggy,  without  raising  her  eyes  from 
the  crock  of  milk  which  she  was  boiling,  "  hast  been 
to  chapel?  Jones  Bethesda,  wasn't  it?  Caton  Pawb!" 
she  added,  turning  to  look  at  the  girl,  "  what's  got 
on  thy  head,  lodes?  What  are  those  feathers  like  a 
*  cock-an-too,'  nodding  over  thine  eyes,  and,  in  my 
deed,  the  feet  looking  like  the  bantam  cock  in  Phil's 
yard!" 

Essylt  made  no  answer,  but  sitting  down  wearily, 
tore  off  the  offending  boots  and  flung  them  irritably 
to  the  opposite  corner  of  the  room  before  she  began 
the  ascent  of  the  narrow  staircase  leading  to  her  bed- 
room and  Peggy's.  There  was  a  door  at  the  bottom, 
and  this  she  closed  with  a  violent  bang  ere  she  toiled 
slowly  up  to  her  room.  "  Achl  those  old  boots!"  she 
said,  slipping  on  her  own  shoes.  "  I'm  as  tired  as  if 
I  had  been  walking  upon  stilts."  Hastily  and  angrily 
she  dragged  off  her  grand  jacket,  also  the  flounced 
skirt  and  the  broad  hat,  and  flinging  them  with  scant 
ceremony  over  a  chair,  she  stretched  herself  upon  her 
bed,  and  lay  there,  silent,  filled  with  brooding 
thoughts,  while  her  sleepless  eyes  stared  out  upon  the 
same  veiled  stars  that  shone  upon  Barbara's  sad  face 
as  she  walked  up  and  down  the  parlour  in  the  fire- 
light, which  threw  those  leaping  shadows  over  the 
brown  rafters. 

At  last  she  grew  tired  of  her  monotonous  pacing, 
and  curled  herself  up  in  a  corner  of  the  big  red  sofa, 
preparing  to  wait  for  Tom.  He  had  promised  to  be 
home  early,  but  his  promises  were  not  to  be  so  much 
relied  upon  now  as  they  had  been  before  the  advent  of 


182  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

Mr.  Preece's  niece.  Should  she  go  and  meet  him 
through  the  wood?  She  longed  to  do  so,  to  smell  the 
sweet  scent  of  the  fir  trees,  to  see  the  still  lake  lying 
placid  and  silent  under  the  night  sky.  She  longed  for 
the  cool  air  to  fan  her  burning  forehead;  but  she 
hesitated,  and  shrank  in  distaste  from  the  idea  of 
meeting  Essylt,  for  of  late  she  had  become  nervously 
afraid  of  the  girl,  who,  living  under  the  same  roof 
with  her,  yet  was  so  full  of  vindictive  feelings  towards 
her,  and  so  she  avoided  all  the  pleasant  walks  in  the 
sylvan  glades  which  had  once  been  so  familiar  to  her. 

A  thump  at  the  door,  and  Peggy  entered,  carrying 
the  lamp. 

"I  would  have  brought  it  sooner,  Miss  wack,  but 
it's  waiting  I've  been  to  take  the  last  loaf  out  of  the 
oven,  and  there's  busy  I've  been  all  day,  and  there's 
Essylt  gone  to  bed,  the  idle  huzzy — tired,  I  suppose, 
with  her  walk  to  Maentrevor — she's  as  weak  as  a  rush. 
I  don't  know  what  is  the  matter  with  the  girls  now- 
adays, not  I!  There,  merch-i,  I'll  bring  Mr.  Tom's 
supper  in ! " 

"  Peggy,"  said  Barbara,  "  I  feel  that  I  long  for  a 
little  fresh  air;  I  will  take  my  cloak  and  walk  a  little 
way  through  the  woods  to  meet  Tom." 

"Very  well,  merch-i,  'twill  do  you  good,"  said 
Peggy;  and  Barbara,  relieved  of  her  fear  of  meeting 
Essylt,  flung  a  cloak  around  her,  and  went  out  alone 
into  the  wood.  How  pure  it  was!  How  refreshing 
the  air  that  rippled  over  the  lake,  and  fanned  her 
aching  head!  How  the  wind  sighed  in  the  tree-tops, 
and  whispered  in  the  branches!  A  little  mournful, 
was  it?  A  little  sad,  that  sighing  in  the  trees?  She 
was  accustomed  to  gather  only  joy  and  strength  from 
her  communings  with  nature;  but  to-night  she  felt 


UNDER    THE     THATCH          183 

as  Michael  was  feeling  at  the  same  moment — as  if  a 
foreboding  of  evil  came  to  her  on  the  night  breeze. 
But,  no,  she  would  not  believe  it!  Her  sorrow  had 
come  to  her,  she  had  passed  through  it  two  hours  ago 
in  the  old  oak  parlour.  From  henceforth  she  must 
be  brave,  must  cast  from  her  all  doubts  of  the  future 
i — and  all  memory  of  the  past. 

And  as  she  trod  the  brittle  twigs  underfoot,  the 
soothing  sounds  and  sights  around  her  seemed  to  throw 
a  spell  of  peace  and  calmness  over  her  spirits. 

The  golden  moon  which  the  clouds  had  not  yet 
reached,  how  beautiful  was  its  image  on  the  surface 
of  the  lake!  Was  that  a  moor-hen  or  a  water-rat 
that  moved  in  the  rushes!  That  rustle  in  the  tree- 
tops  !  Were  the  squirrels  asleep  up  there  in  their  cosy 
nest?  That  clump  of  unopened  daffodils  under  the 
trees !  how  lovely  they  would  be  in  a  week  or  two !  Yes, 
come  sorrow  or  joy,  the  voice  of  Nature  would  always 
find  a  response  in  her  heart. 

As  she  walked  on  further  and  further  she  found 
herself  growing  less  perturbed,  the  aching  in  her  head 
a  little  less  bitter,  and  so  absorbed  was  she  in  her 
thoughts  and  dreams  that  she  took  no  account  of  her 
footsteps,  and  was  surprised  to  find  that  she  had 
reached  the  other  end  of  the  lake,  where  the  path 
branches  off  towards  the  Maentrevor  road.  Should 
she  follow  the  lane?  No,  for  it  was  evident  that  Tom 
was  returning  by  the  road,  so  she  turned  and  began 
rather  hurriedly  to  retrace  her  footsteps ;  but  she  could 
not  resist,  however,  a  sign  of  greeting  towards  the 
silvery  lake.  "  Sweet  scene,"  she  said,  "  dear  stars, 
dear  moon,  you  I  shall  always  have — always !  "  She 
heard  the  trickle  of  the  stream  that  fed  Llyn  Dystaw, 
and  called  to  mind  the  legend  of  the  maiden  who 


184  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

sought  her  faithless  lover  through  the  forest,  and  who, 
at  last  giving  up  in  despiar,  sank  into  the  silence  and 
solitude  of  Llyn  Dystaw. 

Suddenly  her  dreams  were  dispelled  by  a  vision  of 
another  girl  coming  towards  her  along  the  narrow 
pathway.  In  a  moment  she  recognised  Essylt,  and  an 
unaccountable  dread  filled  her  heart — a  feeling  which 
she  tried  to  banish  at  once.  Ashamed  of  her  own 
cowardice,  she  walked  on  with  every  appearance  of 
unconcern,  until  she  was  confronted  by  Essylt,  who 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  path,  where  it  happened 
to  be  at  its  narrowest. 

"Dear  me,  Barbara  Owen,  is  it  you,  indeed?  Walk- 
ing out  here  by  yourself  in  the  night.  What  do  you 
want  here?  Are  you  spying  upon  me,  or  did  you 
expect  to  meet  anyone  here  ?  "  and  she  stood  straight 
across  the  path,  squaring  her  elbows  a  little  as  if 
intentionally  barring  the  way. 

"  Let  me  pass,"  said  Barbara,  in  a  firm,  calm  voice. 
"  Dear  anwl!  who's  preventing  you  ?  You  can't 
expect  to  have  the  path  to  yourself;  but,  in  my  deed, 
I'm  thinking  this  is  a  good  time  for  me  to  tell  you  a 
few  plain  truths.  You  were  in  the  big  parlour  walk- 
ing about  when  I  went  to  lie  down  for  a  bit,  and  now 
here  you  are  walking  out  again  by  yourself;  and  what 
makes  you  so  restless,  Miss  B.?  Do  you  know  what 
it  is,  I  wonder,  to  have  bitter  thoughts  burning  in 
your  heart,  until  you  feel  nothing  but  the  night  wind 
will  do  you  good?  Do  you  ever  think  of  the  day  when 
everyone  will  know  that  you  are  a  murderess?  And 
Michael  Lloyd  shall  hear  what  my  two  eyes  have 
seen ! " 

"  Let  me  pass,  Essylt,"  said  Barbara ;  "  out  of  my 
way." 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          185 

"Oh,  ho!"  said  Essylt,  "you  don't  like  plain 
truths,  it  seems." 

"  You  wicked  girl ! "  said  Barbara  again,  her  voice 
trembling  between  fear  and  anger  "You  wicked 
girl,  let  me  pass!" 

"Did  you  call  me  a  wicked  girl?  Pass  on,  then, 
pass  on,"  said  Essylt,  stepping  aside  a  little ;  "  there's 
plenty  of  room." 

Barbara  glanced  at  the  narrow  strip  of  the  bank 
left  between  Essylt's  irate  figure  and  the  edge  of  the 
lake,  and  saw  that  the  head  must  be  clear,  the  footstep 
steady,  that  would  safely  pass  by  the  girl,  whose  atti- 
tude was  so  threatening,  her  white  face  so  dis- 
torted with  passion.  Barbara  trembled  to  make  the 
attempt;  she  held  her  head  high,  however,  and 
stepped  as  firmly  and  courageously  as  she  could,  and 
would  have  got  safely  by  had  not  her  close  proximity 
to  the  angry  girl  proved  too  much  for  the  self-control 
of  the  latter.  Clutching  Barbara  by  the  shoulders, 
she  shook  her  roughly,  and  with  a  sudden  movement 
of  her  arms  flung  her  away  from  her,  not  intentionally 
into  the  lake,  but  caring  little  in  her  blind  passion 
what  became  of  her  enemy.  As  the  clutching  hands 
loosened  their  grasp  Barbara  wavered  a  moment,  mak- 
ing a  futile  grasp  at  the  air,  then  lost  her  balance, 
and  sank  backwards  into  the  water. 

At  the  same  moment  Essylt  with  a  loud  scream 
turned  away,  and  with  her  arms  crossed  on  her  bosom 
— a  favourite  attitude  of  hers — ran  with  swift  though 
unsteady  footsteps  towards  her  accustomed  covert, 
and  stooping  under  the  brambles,  disappeared  in  the 
thicket,  and  had  anyone  been  there  to  listen  through 
that  still  night  air,  they  would  have  heard  her  wailing 


186  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

and  moaning  as  she  made  her  way  further  and  fur- 
ther into  the  wood. 

At  the  very  moment  of  her  disappearance  a  foot- 
step was  crunching  the  twigs  in  the  lane  that  led  from 
the  Maentrevor  road — a  firm  tread  that  quickened 
into  a  run  as  Essylt's  scream  disturbed  the  silence  of 
the  night.  It  was  Michael  Lloyd,  who  was  walking 
back  in  search  of  the  book  which  he  had  left  on  the 
mill  window.  He  had  fallen  into  a  train  of  brooding 
thought,  from  which  he  was  suddenly  startled  by 
Essylt's  scream.  Realising  that  someone  was  in  press- 
ing need,  he  hastened  on ;  but  when  he  reached  the  path 
by  the  lake,  he  found  to  his  surprise  that  there  was  no 
one  to  be  seen,  nothing  visible  but  the  rippling  surface 
of  the  water. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

MICHAEL  approached  the  edge  of  the  bank. 

"Who  is  it?"  he  cried  aloud.     "Who  screamed?" 

At  that  moment  he  saw  a  dark  object  that  moved 
under  the  branches  of  the  trees,  which  here  bent  down 
to  the  surface  of  the  lake. 

"  Oh,  help  me,  help  me ! "  cried  a  voice,  and  the 
branches  cracked.  "It  is  I." 

Barbara's  voice!  Merciful  heaven,  what  did  it 
mean? 

In  a  moment  he  had  flung  off  his  coat,  and  his 
shoes,  and  had  sprung  into  the  water;  his  feet  reached 
the  gravel  bottom,  and  his  head  being  just  above  the 
surface,  he  was  able  to  see  exactly  where  his  presence 
was  required.  The  tree  cracked  again  ominously 
and  a  little  cry  escaped  the  struggling  girl,  who  felt 
that  but  for  the  frail  branch  to  which  she  clung  so 
desperately,  she  must  sink  into  the  cold  depths  below. 
She  knew  how  cold  it  was,  and  how  deep  under  those 
trees ! 

"  Hold  on,  for  heaven's  sake ! "  cried  Michael, 
who  was  now  swimming,  and  within  a  few  yards  of 
her. 

In  obedience  to  his  directions  she  clutched  more 
eagerly  at  the  frail  branch — it  creaked,  it  bent,  and 
with  a  cry  she  sank  beneath  the  water,  but  Michael 
had  already  reached  the  spot,  and  diving  down 
to  the  cold  depths,  grasped  her  hair,  and  raised  her 
to  the  surface.  Perhaps  she  had  fainted  or  swooned; 

187 


188  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

she  was  at  all  events  very  still  and  silent,  and  made  no 
attempt  to  clutch  at  her  rescuer,  and  thus  frustrate 
his  efforts  to  save  her,  as  she  might  have  done  had 
she  been  conscious. 

It  took  but  a  few  moments  for  the  strong  swimmer 
to  reach  the  shallow  water,  where  he  could  wade  to 
the  bank  with  ease  and  safety. 

How  did  all  this  happen?  It  was  a  mystery  which 
he  did  not  wait  to  fathom,  but  wrapping  his  dry  coat 
round  his  precious  burden  he  hurried  along  the  wood- 
land path. 

Barbara  was  still  silent,  her  long  hair  hanging  in 
streaming  skeins  over  her  shoulders. 

Was  she  dead?  Had  the  shock  killed  her?  The 
thought  was  terrifying,  and  unconsciously  he  clasped 
her  closer,  as  if  to  snatch  her  from  death. 

"  If  I  only  knew  she  was  alive,"  he  said  as  he  hur- 
ried onwards. 

"  Beloved,    say    one   word — only    one   word,    that    I 
may  know  you  are  alive !  " 

Her  face  was  close  to  his,  she  had  heard  his  appeal, 
and  the  word  of  endearment,  for  in  a  trembling  voice 
she  said,  "  Michael." 

It  was  only  one  word,  only  his  name,  but  in  its  tones 
he  seemed  to  hear  both  love  and  sorrow — a  wistful 
tenderness  which  made  his  heart  bound  with  joy.  In 
answer  he  only  bent  his  head  close  to  hers  and  whis- 
pered, "  Barbara." 

They  were  not  much,  those  two  simple  words,  but 
in  both  their  hearts  they  left,  after  the  first  throb  of 
happiness,  a  feeling  of  guilt  and  unworthiness,  for  as 
Michael  had  spoken  her  name,  he  had  tightened  his 
clasp  and  strained  her  in  a  closer  embrace. 

As  they  reached  the  green  he  asked: 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          189 

"How  did  it  happen?"  and  Barbara  answered 
simply,  "  I  went  too  near  the  edge  of  the  lake,  and 
overbalanced,  and  fell  in." 

Summoning  Peggy»  as  they  passed  her  door, 
Michael,  who  was  intimate  with  every  turn  of  the  old 
house,  made  his  way  straight  to  the  large  kitchen, 
where  the  culm  fire  was  lighting  every  corner  with  its 
ruddy  glow. 

Peggy  was  at  once  in  attendance,  with  endless 
exclamations  of  wonder  and  disapprobation,  which 
Michael  cut  short  with  peremptory  order. 

"  Come,  come,  bring  a  hot  drink  and  dry  clothes 
at  once  and  get  her  to  bed.  Miss  Owen  was  walking 
too  near  the  edge  of  the  lake,  she  overbalanced  and 
fell  in,  and  I,  coming  back  to  the  mill  to  fetch  a  book 
I  had  left  there,  was  just  in  time  to  save  her — now 
you  know  all,  so  don't  ask  any  more  questions." 

Barbara  was  standing  in  a  pool  of  water,  which 
Peggy  had  wrung  out  of  her  hair;  her  eyes  were 
drooping,  her  cheeks  flushed,  and  she  bent  her  head  a 
little,  like  a  child  who  is  ashamed. 

Yes,  Barbara  the  proud  was  ashamed,  for  she  felt 
that  in  a  moment  of  weakness,  in  that  one  word 
"  Michael,"  she  had  betrayed  the  secret  which  she  had 
hidden  so  long,  and  Michael,  seeing  the  blushing  con- 
fusion, understood.  No  need  of  words  between  these 
two,  who  were  on  the  eve  of  parting. 

"  Now  go,  machgen-i,"  said  Peggy,  "  and  see  to 
yourself.  I  will  mind  Miss  vdch. 

"  Yes,"  said  Michael ;  "  remember  dry  clothes,  a 
warm  bed,  and  a  hot  drink  at  once.  Good  night, 
Miss  Owen,  good-bye,"  he  said,  again  stopping  at 
the  doorway  to  take  a  last  look  at  her. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  answered  in  a  low  voice,  and  in  a 


190  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

moment  he  was  gone,  closing  the  latched  door  behind 
him. 

Hurrying  round  the  corner  of  the  mill  he  secured 
the  book  he  had  left  on  the  window-sill,  and  then  set 
off,  walking  rapidly,  sometimes  running,  towards 
Maentrevor.  He  went  so  quickly  that  in  spite  of  his 
wet  garments  he  was  in  a  warm  glow  when  he  reached 
Dr.  Rees's  house,  and  he  feared  no  evil  effects  from 
his  sudden  plunge  into  Llyn  Dystaw;  but  he  was  full 
of  anxiety  concerning  Barbara.  Such  a  shock,  such 
a  chill!  Would  it  be  too  much  for  a  tender  girl? 
And  he  determined  that  before  he  could  leave  the 
neighbourhood  next  morning,  he  must  have  some  cer- 
tain knowledge  of  her  condition,  and  as  to  whether  she 
was  ill,  feverish  perhaps,  seriously  affected  by  her 
sudden  immersion!  God  forbid,  for  then  indeed  his 
path  would  be  beset  with  difficulties. 

He  rose  early  next  morning  and  hurried  through 
the  woods  towards  Llyn  Dystaw  and  the  mill.  This 
was  his  first  goal,  and  as  he  pressed  the  latch  of 
Peggy's  door  he  was  full  of  anxious  forebodings. 

"Miss  Barbara,  how  is  she,  Peggy?  Any  the  worse 
for  her  wetting?  " 

'*  Not  a  bit,  machgen-i,  so  she  says  whatever,  but 
I  don't  quite  believe  her,"  she  added  with  a  wink, 
"because  her  eyes  are  red,  as  if  she  had  been  crying. 
I  asked  her  and  she  got  quite  cross  with  me.  'You 
are  a  bother,'  says  she.  '  I  tell  you  I  am  quite  well,' '! 
and  Peggy  chuckled  as  if  she  had  enjoyed  the  repri- 
mand. 

"  Well,  good-bye,  Peggy,"  said  Michael,  compelled 
to  be  satisfied  with  these  bare  items  of  information, 
although  he  was  hungry  for  more.  "  You  know  I  am 
going  away  this  morning.  Where  is  Essylt?" 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          191 

"  Oh,  in  bed,"  said  Peggy,  "  with  her  door  safe 
locked  upon  her,  and  she  won't  answer  if  I  knock  my 
bones  through  my  knuckles. 

"  Go  you,  machgen-i,  and  put  all  thought  of 
Essylt  out  of  your  mind,  because  I  don't  want  to 
quarrel  with  you,  nor  to  see  you  breaking  your  father's 
heart.  She  is  no  good  for  you." 

"  Well,  good-bye,  Peggy,  and  if  I  don't  see  her, 
say  good-bye  to  her  for  me."  He  almost  hoped  as  he 
turned  out  to  the  green  that  thus  it  would  be,  that 
Essylt  would  sleep  on,  and  forget  to  meet  him  in  the 
wood.  This  was  one  feeling  of  which  he  was  con- 
scious, a  disturbing  thought  which  caused  him  to 
upbraid  himself  with  disloyalty  towards  the  girl  he 
was  about  to  marry.  Another  feeling,  too,  lay 
deep  down  in  his  heart — Barbara's  tears.  Were  they 
for  him?  He  tried  to  crush  the  thought,  and  to  close 
his  eyes  to  it,  but  it  was  there — alive  and  strong. 

The  mill  door  was  closed,  the  wheel  was  silent;  evi- 
dently Philip  was  still  asleep. 

"  God  bless  him,"  murmured  Michael,  as  he  turned 
towards  the  wood.  He,  at  least,  would  keep  his  ap- 
pointment, but  it  was  with  a  heavy  heart  that  he  trod 
the  pathway  which  in  earlier  days  he  had  traversed 
a  hundred  times  with  a  light  step  and  a  buoyant 
spirit. 

"How  was  it?"  he  wondered,  "that  at  that  junc- 
ture of  his  life,  when  he  was  sacrificing  all  on  the  altar 
of  duty,  he  felt  no  compensating  peace  of  mind,  no 
elevation  of  soul,  no  deep  content,  but  only  a  heavy 
weight,  a  gloomy  foreboding  and  a  morbid  discontent 
which  chafed  and  frayed  incessantly  ?  " 

Well,  there  was  nothing  for  him  but  to  plod  on, 
blindfolded,  towards  the  goal  of  self-sacrifice,  of  self- 


192  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

renunciation.  He  walked  on  in  deep  thought,  until 
suddenly  he  was  aware  of  Essylt  coming  to  meet  him 
from  the  opposite  direction. 

Peggy  had  been  wrong  then — she  was  already  wait- 
ing for  him. 

"  Has  come,  merch-i!  "  he  cried.  "  Peggy  thought 
thou  were  asleep." 

"  Oh,  Peggy,"  she  said,  with  a  hard  laugh,  "  she's 
like  everybody  else,  always  thinking  the  worst  of  me. 
But  what  took  you  there  so  early,  Michael?" 

"  Well,  I  wanted  to  know  before  I  started  on  my 
journey  how  Miss  Owen  was  after  her  fall  into  the 
lake." 

"  Fall  into  the  lake ! "  exclaimed  Essylt  in  un- 
feigned astonishment,  for  she  had  run  away  so  sud- 
denly the  night  before  from  the  scene  of  the  quarrel 
with  Barbara  that  she  had  been  quite  unaware  of 
the  force  with  which  she  had  thrust  the  girl  away  from 
her. 

"  In  the  lake !     Wasn't  she  drowned,  then  ?  " 

Every  bit  of  colour  left  her  face;  her  strange  eyes 
opened  wide. 

"  No,"  said  Michael,  looking  uneasily  at  the  weird, 
uncanny  change  in  her  expression.  "  She  "would  have 
been  drowned  if  I  had  not  happened  to  arrive  here 
just  in  time  to  save  her.  Just  there,  it  was,"  he  said, 
pointing  to  where  a  clump  of  alders  bent  down  to  the 
water's  edge. 

"And  thou  wast  here  to  save  her!"  said  Essylt. 
"  Well,  indeed,  that  was  fortunate  for  her — and  well 
pleasing  to  thee,  I'm  thinking." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  thou  are  right !  It  was  fortunate ;  it 
would  have  been  a  terrible  shadow  upon  our  beautiful 
Llyn  Dystaw  if  she  had  been  drowned." 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          193 

"Well,  she's  all  right,  so  let  her  be,"  said  Essylt. 
"Didst  carry  her  home,  I  suppose?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Michael,  trying  to  speak  naturally. 
"  Peggy  called  thee,  but  thy  door  was  locked,  and  she 
could  not  awake  thee — fast  asleep,  I  expect." 

*'  Oh,  of  course,  I  was  fast  asleep,"  answered  Essylt 
with  a  sarcastic  laugh,  "  without  any  thought  of  pain 
or  trouble,  I  suppose !  Oh,  yes,  I  slept  soundly ! " 
and  again  she  laughed,  such  a  weird  expression  on  her 
face  that  Michael  stared  at  her  with  unconcealed  aston- 
ishment. 

"  Essylt,  merch-l,  what  is  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked, 
taking  her  hand  and  supporting  her  tenderly  as  she 
sank  down  on  the  bank  to  rest. 

"  'Tis  tired  I  am,"  she  said.  "  Nothing's  the  mat- 
ter with  me.  A  bad  night  I  had,  and  cruel  dreams; 
and  then,  to  hear  thee  and  Peggy  saying  I  was  asleep. 
Asleep,  indeed ! "  and  again  came  that  hard,  mirthless 
laugh.  "  But  I  am  all  right  now — 'tis  a  little  rest 
I  wanted,  peace  and  rest,"  she  said;  "that  is  all  I 
want,"  and  a  softer  look  came  into  her  eyes,  the  rigid 
pallor  on  her  features  was  less  pronounced,  and  there 
was  almost  a  wistful  gentleness  in  her  voice. 

"Well,  indeed,"  she  added,  "if  /  had  fallen  into 
the  lake,  I  would  have  been  very  angry  if  anyone  had 
called  me  back  to  life  again."  She  passed  her  hand 
wearily  over  her  face  and  eyes.  "'Twas  a  little  faint 
came  over  me,"  she  said,  rising,  though  a  little  un- 
steadily. 

"  'Tis  at  home  thou  shouldst  be,  merch-i,  in  bed, 
with  Peggy  nursing  thee.  Come,  let  me  carry  thee 
home,"  and  he  approached  as  if  to  take  her  in  his 
arms;  but  she  flung  his  hand  away  roughly. 

"  Nonsense,    Michael ! "    she  said.        "  Carry    me, 


194  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

indeed!  I  am  not  a  fool  or  a  doll.  Come,  let  us  say 
good-bye;  I  know  thy  time  is  nearly  up,  and  I  don't 
wish  to  be  a  drag  upon  thee." 

"Well,"  said  Michael,  looking  at  his  watch,  "'tis 
true  I  must  go,  merch-i.  Wilt  promise  then  to  take 
care  of  thyself?  Remember,  I  am  coming  home  next 
month  to  marry  thee,  Essylt,  to  try  and  bring  that 
rest  and  peace  into  thy  life  which  thou  seem'st  to  have 
hitherto  missed." 

"Rest  and  peace?"  said  Essylt.  "I  don't  know 
where  they  are  to  be  found,  unless  at  the  bottom  of 
this  lake!" 

"Essylt,"  cried  Michael  with  indignation  and  anger 
in  his  voice,  "  this  is  not  the  first  time  that  thou  hast 
said  these  foolish  things  to  me.  Thou  must  drop  that 
nonsense  if  thou  art  going  to  be  my  wife ;  'tis  not  only 
nonsense,  'tis  wicked,  and  very  disturbing  to  a  man 
who  has  plenty  of  worries  and  troubles  in  his  life,  and 
expects  in  the  woman  he  is  going  to  marry  at  least 
content  and  cheerfulness." 

His  face  was  much  flushed,  and  his  eyes  flashed 
with  anger.  Essylt  had  never  seen  him  thus  before, 
never  heard  those  indignant  tones. 

"  I  must  go,"  he  said  again.  "  For  heaven's  sake 
don't  let  us  part  in  anger."  He  felt  this  would  be 
a  climax  which  he  had  neither  courage  nor  endurance 
to  overcome.  "  Come,  merch-i"  he  added  in  a  gentler 
voice,  for  his  anger  was  never  long-lived,  "  cast  these 
moods  from  thee,  be  calm,  be  content,"  and,  drawing 
her  towards  him,  he  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her  forehead, 
and,  linking  her  arm  within  his  own,  led  her  towards 
the  lane  that  branched  off  to  Maentrevor. 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Essylt,  "  we  won't  quarrel 
at  our  last  meeting,  and  I  will  try  to  be  all  thou 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          195 

wishest;  but,  Michael,  don't  expect  too  much  from 
me." 

"No,  no,"  he  said.  "God  knows  I  have  no  right 
to  expect  much  from  thee.  Good-bye,  good-bye,  I 
have  stayed  too  long." 

"Fforwel,  Michael,  thou  hast  been  very  patient 
with  me,"  and  to  his  astonishment  she  flung  her  arms 
round  his  neck,  and  kissed  him  with  more  semblance  of 
love  and  tenderness  than  she  had  ever  shown  towards 
him  before. 

He  looked  back  at  her  several  times,  and  waved 
his  hand,  until  at  last  the  bend  in  the  road  hid  him 
from  sight. 

Essylt  stood,  as  any  other  girl  would  have  done, 
with  fluttering  handkerchief  up,  raised  to  wave  fare- 
well to  her  lover — but  no  sooner  had  he  disappeared 
than  a  strange  change  came  over  her  face,  and  the 
strongest  sentiment  imprinted  upon  it  was  that  of  re- 
lief;  the  colour  ebbed  from  her  cheeks,  the  light  from 
her  eyes,  and  with  a  satisfied  "There!"  she  sat  down 
on  the  mossy  bank  in  an  inert  heap,  too  weary,  ap- 
parently, to  do  more  than  remain  where  she  had  fallen. 

The  waters  of  the  lake  rippled  and  gurgled  round 
the  edges,  a  hedge-sparrow  piped  its  little  song  close 
beside  her,  the  frogs  croaked  in  the  rushes. 

Essylt  heard  none  of  them,  but  lay  quietly  resting 
under  the  sun's  warm  beams.  Once  she  repeated  the 
word  "  There ! "  adding,  "  I  have  carried  it  through. 
I  was  afraid  I  would  fail." 

It  was  a  full  hour  before  she  rose  at  last,  and  turned 
her  steps  towards  home.  She  passed  the  spot  where 
she  and  Barbara  had  met  the  night  before,  and,  re- 
calling the  incident,  she  smiled,  not  with  that  gentler 
expression  which  had  for  a  moment  lightened  her  fea- 


196  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

tures  during  her  interview  with  Michael,  but  with  the 
hard,  mocking  look  which  was  habitual  to  her. 

She  waited  at  the  stile  till  she  saw  Peggy  pass  round 
the  mill  door,  to  prepare  Phil's  breakfast,  then  she 
quietly  slipped  into  the  house  and  up  the  stairs,  and, 
unlocking  her  bedroom  door,  stretched  herself  upon 
her  bed  apparently  glad  of  a  little  further  rest. 

"  Oh,  thou  art  awake  at  last ! "  said  Peggy,  when 
by  and  by  Essylt  came  slowly  down  to  the  kitchen. 
"  Come,  here's  thy  tea,  and  listen  to  all  that  has  hap- 
pened whilst  thou  hast  been  asleep.  I  knocked  hard 
at  thy  door,  but  thou  wouldst  not  answer." 

"  I  did  not  hear,"  said  the  girl.  "  What  has  hap- 
pened ?  "  and  she  listened  with  what  patience  she  could 
to  Peggy's  meandering  account  of  the  accident  that 
had  befallen  Barbara,  and  the  wonderful  providence 
that  had  brought  Michael  Lloyd  upon  the  scene  in  the 
very  nick  of  time. 

"Wasn't  it  wonderful,  merch-i,  wasn't  it  fortu- 
nate?" 

"Oh,  wonderful!     And  how  is  she  to-day?" 

"Oh,  all  right,"  said  Peggy,  "only  a  little  pale," 
and  she  said  no  more,  some  subtle  instinct  teaching 
her  that  the  eyes,  red  with  weeping,  need  not  be  men- 
tioned to  Essylt. 

About  a  week  afterwards,  Barbara,  who  had  suf- 
fered no  ill  effects  from  her  adventure,  was  walking 
homewards  from  the  shore,  where  she  often  roamed 
alone  between  the  boulders  and  heaps  of  sea-wrack.  It 
was  two  miles  away  from  Cwm  Meivon,  but  that  was 
nothing  to  her,  for  she  was  strong  and  active  as  most 
country  girls.  She  saw  the  sun  sinking  towards  the 
west.  "  It  would  be  tea-time !  Tom  would  be  wait- 
ing!" and  she  began  her  way  steadily  over  the  sand- 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          197 

hills,  where  a  short  cut  would  take  her  quickly  to  Llyn 
Dystaw. 

As  she  walks  alone,  silent  and  preoccupied,  we  see 
a  marked  change  in  her  appearance.  The  corners  of 
the  mouth  droop  a  little;  between  the  pencilled  eye- 
brows there  is  a  line  of  care  or  sorrow — which  is  it? 
Perhaps  both,  for  above  the  horizon  of  her  life,  on 
which  she  was  wont  to  see  only  a  clear  sky  and  a 
golden  atmosphere,  there  had  arisen  of  late  a  dark 
cloud,  whose  shadow  followed  her  persistently,  however 
much  she  might  try  to  ignore  it,  and  to  occupy  her 
thoughts  with  other  things;  it  was  like  a  great  grey 
bank  of  fog  that  rises  sometimes  beyond  the  hill-tops, 
spreading  silently  but  surely,  until  it  has  darkened  the 
landscape.  With  such  a  shadow  hanging  over  her, 
Barbara  had  lived  of  late,  realising  for  the  first  time 
that  there  was  a  secret  in  her  life  that  had  to  be  hid- 
den. 

To  her  proud  and  straightforward  nature  this  feel- 
ing was  intolerable — that  she,  Barbara  Owen,  should 
blush  or  pale  at  a  chance  word — should  dread  to  hear 
what  turn  a  conversation  might  take;  it  galled  her 
bitterly.  Had  an  uneasy  conscience  added  its  sting 
to  her  unrest,  she  would  not  have  been  able  to  stand 
against  the  crushing  weight,  but  there  was  always 
within  her  heart  the  consciousness  that  between  her 
and  the  mother  she  had  loved  no  cloud  of  darkness 
could  fall.  "  She  knows,"  she  would  say  sometimes 
aloud,  "  I  have  trodden  and  retrodden  the  weary  mill- 
round  of  anxiety  and  doubt — she  knows,  and  7  know, 
and  God  knows.  Why  then  should  I  let  this  miserable 
thought  frighten  me?  If  only  I  dared  to  speak  about 
it  openly  I  believe  half  its  terrors  would  fly  away. 
Tom  is  unreasonably  nervous,  and  he  has  infected  me 


198  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

with  his  fears.  I  will  talk  about  it,  I  will  not  have  a 
secret  in  my  life  that  I  must  hide.  I  will  begin  at 
once,  and  see  what  Phil  will  say,"  but  when  she  went 
round  by  the  mill,  and  stood  at  the  open  door,  she 
saw  that  this  was  not  the  day  for  laying  such  a  ques- 
tion before  him. 

Outside  there  was  a  rush  of  the  millstream,  while 
inside,  every  wheel,  both  great  and  small,  was  revolv- 
ing with  its  own  particular  grumble.  The  miller  ap- 
proached through  the  noise  and  the  meal-dust,  but 
Barbara  stopped  her  ears,  saying,  "  Not  now,  Phil — 
to-morrow,  perhaps,"  and  turned  away  towards  the 
porch  in  the  west  gable. 

In  the  parlour,  where  the  sunset  light  gathered  and 
added  glow  from  the  yellow  walls,  Tom  and  Mabel 
Hume  were  waiting,  the  latter  having,  after  a  good 
deal  of  persuasion,  consented  to  accompany  him  to  the 
mill  and  have  tea  with  Barbara.  "  Just  in  an  informal 
way,  you  know,  so  that  you  may  become  better  ac- 
quainted with  her.  You  have  only  seen  her  once  or 
twice  at  Mr.  Preece's,  and  she  never  seems  quite  herself 
there,"  Tom  was  saying,  and  now  he  was  showing  her 
the  few  objects  of  interest  in  the  room — the  piano  that 
had  come  from  Caefran — the  photograph  of  his  mother 
which  hung  over  it,  a  set  of  delicately  carved  chess- 
men; a  complete  suit  of  armour  that  had  been  dug 
up  in  one  of  the  Caefran  fields,  and  now  hung  on  the 
wall  of  the  room  which  was  hall  and  parlour  combined. 

"  Oh,  what  a  curious  old  thing ! "  said  Miss  Hume. 
'*  I  don't  know  which  looks  the  most  ghostly,  this,  or 
that  old  clock  on  the  other  side  of  the  bookcase." 

At  that  moment  the  said  clock  began  to  strike  six, 
its  loud  resonant  tones  reverberating  through  the 
house.  With  a  startled  "  Oh ! "  Mabel  moved  a  little 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          199 

away  from  it,  and  Tom,  laughing,  said,  "  It  wants  to 
prove  to  you  that  it  is  no  ghost,  at  all  events." 

"  Oh,  here  she  is,"  and  Barbara  entered  with  a  little 
colour  in  her  cheeks,  and  a  bright  look  put  on  in  the 
porch  when  she  heard  Tom's  voice  in  the  parlour. 

There  was  the  usual  warm  embrace  between  the  sis- 
ter and  brother,  and  then  Mabel  and  Barbara  greeted 
each  other  with  every  sign  of  outward  cordiality, 
though  in  Barbara's  manner  there  was  a  shy  nervous- 
ness, not  habitual  to  her,  for,  as  she  entered  the  room, 
the  ever-present  cloud  lowered  upon  her,  and  the 
thought  flashed  into  her  mind,  "What  would  she  think 
of  me,  I  wonder,  if  she  knew  ?  "  and  then  she  tried  to 
cast  the  feeling  aside — to  lay  herself  out  for  her 
guest's  entertainment. 

Peggy  brought  in  the  tray,  the  old  silver  teapot 
and  the  pile  of  light-cakes. 

"I  am  very  glad  you  have  come,"  said  Barbara. 
"  We  don't  seem  to  have  seen  very  much  of  each  other, 
do  we?  Now  I  can  show  you  over  the  whole  house, 
which  I  think  so  interesting.  Do  you  like  old  things?  " 

"  Not  much,"  said  Mabel,  throwing  off  her  furs. 
"I  like  fresh  and  bright  things,  and  I  may  add — < 
pretty  things." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Barbara,  laughing;  "but  some  old 
things  are  pretty,  you  know — this  teapot,  for  in- 
stance, and  that  rose  bowl,  !which  belonged  to  my 
great-grandmother." 

"  Gracious !  "  exclaimed  Mabel,  "  how  delicious  these 
cakes  are ! " 

"  Yes,  Peggy  excels  in  making  light-cakes,"  said 
Tom,  sticking  his  fork  in  three  at  once. 

"What!  that  old  woman  who  brought  the  tea  in — 
looks  like  an  old  witch,  doesn't  she?" 


200  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

"  Bless  her !     She's  our  only  servant,"  said  Barbara. 

Mabel  raised  her  eyebrows,  while  Tom  looked  un- 
comfortable. 

"  Getting  past  work,  you  think,  I  dare  say,  but  she 
isn't,  I  can  tell  you,"  he  said. 

Peggy's  appearance  seemed  to  have  given  Mabel 
food  for  thought,  for  she  looked  rather  serious  and 
preoccupied  while  she  sipped  her  tea  and  ate  her  light- 
cakes.  Her  thoughts,  whatever  they  were,  condensed 
themselves  into  the  question,  "  Have  you  no  other 
servant  but  that  old  woman?" 

"  None,  indeed,"  said  Barbara.  "  We  are  quite 
content  without." 

"Unless  you  count  Essylt,"  said  Tom,  anxious  to 
add  to  the  importance  of  the  household. 

"  Oh,  she  doesn't  count,"  said  Barbara  with  a  little 
frown. 

"  Essylt,"  said  Mabel  with  a  sudden  awakening  of 
interest — "  isn't  that  the  girl  Dr.  Michael  Lloyd  was 
going  to  marry?  What  a  dreadful  thing!" 

"  Yes,"  said  Barbara,  "  very  shortly,  I  believe." 

She  spoke  with  a  steady  voice,  but  as  she  poured 
out  the  tea  her  hand  trembled  a  little,  and  the  col- 
our which  had  tinged  her  face  as  she  entered  had 
faded. 

"  'Tis  one  of  the  most  mysterious  things  I  have  ever 
heard  of,"  said  Tom,  "  that  a  man  like  Michael  Lloyd 
— a  man  of  such  refined  tastes,  with  such  a  cultured 
mind,  should  marry  an  ignorant,  commonplace,  peas- 
ant girl!  It  beats  me — moreover,  one  who  has  some- 
thing disagreeable  and  uncanny  in  her  ways.  I  be- 
lieve he  considers  it  a  point  of  honour  that  he  should 
keep  a  promise  made  to  her  when  they  were  boy  and 
girl  together,  or  little  more  than  that,  and  Michael 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          201 

Lloyd  would  trample  upon  his  own  heart-strings  to 
keep  a  promise." 

"  I  should  love  to  see  the  girl,"  said  Mabel.  "  Is 
she  pretty  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Tom  meditatively,  "  she  has  a  weird 
kind  of  beauty,  but  her  colouring  is  too  much  like  a 
face  of  wax  to  please  me.  I  do  not  admire  those  waxen 
faces  with  a  tinge  of  yellow  in  them,  and  lips  like  red 
sealing-wax.  We'll  go  over  the  house  after  tea,  and  I 
dare  say  we'll  see  her  somewhere." 

Barbara  had  been  silent  while  Tom  had  spoken, 
silent,  with  a  look  of  care  on  her  face,  for  a  nervous 
dread  was  creeping  over  her  as  it  always  did  when 
Essylt's  namo  was  mentioned.  Essylt  who  tried  to 
drown  her!  Who  could  send  her  to  a  shameful  death! 
The  morbid  thought  was  crushing  all  the  brightness 
and  freedom  out  of  her  spirit,  and  threatened  to  change 
the  whole  character  of  the  girl. 

When  tea  was  over,  and  Peggy  was  clearing  away, 
casting  furtive  and  critical  glances  at  the  English 
lady  whom  Mr.  Tom  had  chosen  for  a  *  switheart,' 
Barbara  led  the  way  up  the  broad  uncarpeted  stairs, 
with  their  solid  banisters  of  black  oak,  to  the  long  cor- 
ridor from  which  the  bare  old  bedrooms  opened  out. 

"  Oh !  what  a  ghostly  place,"  said  Mabel  as  they 
entered  one  of  the  rooms  and  opened  the  shutter.  The 
old  furniture,  shrouded  in  its  sheets  and  coverings, 
certainly  looked  somewhat  weird  and  uncanny  in  the 
dim  light. 

"Oh,  but  these  rooms  must  have  been  lovely  once," 
said  Barbara.  "  See  the  handsome  ceilings  and  the 
panelled  walls.  With  a  large  fire  and  plenty  of  light 
they  would  be  beautiful.  I  often  try  to  imagine  how 
they  looked,  long  ago,  with  the  stately  ladies  and 


202  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

gentlemen  walking  about;  the  young  men  and  maidens 
passing  up  and  down  the  staircase — oh,  yes!  I  can 
see  it  plainly  in  my  mind's  eye." 

"  This  is  the  room  I  like,"  said  Tom,  opening 
another  door  and  throwing  back  the  shutters  wide; 
"it  would  make  a  lovely  sitting-room,  it  is  so  bright 
and  sunny;  it  looks  out  on  to  the  green." 

Visions  of  himself  and  Mabel  installed  therein,  of 
blazing  fires  and  joyous  voices  rose  before  him;  but 
Mabel  only  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  shuddered  a 
little,  while  Barbara,  who  loved  every  nook  and  corner 
of  the  rambling  old  house,  led  the  way  through  dark 
passages  and  rickety  stairs,  scarcely  noticing  in  her 
own  enthusiasm  that  Mabel  grew  more  and  more 
silent  and  uninterested. 

"  This,  I  am  sure,"  she  continued,  "  must  have  been 
a  little  oratory.  See !  here  is  the  mark  in  the  floor  where 
a  reading-desk  was  fastened;  that  alcove  must  have 
contained  the  altar.  See!  here  too  is  the  pole  upon 
which  curtains  ran.  Oh!  I  can  see  it  all  so  plainly, 
servants  of  the  household  ranged  there,  madam  and 
her  guests  kneeling  here.  Can't  you  imagine  it  ? " 
She  turned  to  Mabel  with  bright  eyes  and  deep  interest, 
but  the  pleasure  in  her  face  died  out  as  she  caught 
sight  of  her  guest's  look  of  indifference. 

"I  have  not  been  endowed  with  your  vivid  imagina- 
tion," said  the  latter ;  "  I  must  confess  that  I  see  only 
a  bare  whitewashed  room,  with  one  narrow  window 
near  the  ceiling." 

"  Yes,"  said  Barbara,  laughing,  "  that  is  all  it  cer- 
tainly is.  Let  us  go,"  and  they  began  their  way  down 
the  broad  stairs  again. 


CHAPTER    XIV 

IN  the  bright  west  parlour  Mabel  seemed  more  at  her 
ease,  and  chatted  away  in  her  usual  self-possessed 
manner. 

"  And  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  really  like  to 
live  in  this  curious  old  place?"  she  said,  turning  to 
Barbara. 

"  Indeed,  I  do ;  I  love  being  with  all  the  memories 
of  the  past,  and  the  beauties  of  the  present  around 
me." 

"  Beauties  of  the  present ! "  said  Mabel,  with  a 
doubtful  smile. 

"  Yes,  the  place,  the  encircling  woods,  the  mossy 
thatch,  the  dear  old  mill-wheel;  it  is  full  of  beauty  to 
me;  but,  of  course,  if  you  don't  see  it,  you  don't." 

"Well,  I  don't,"  said  Mabel,  with  a  little  laugh, 
which  expressed  a  great  deal  of  contempt  and  amuse- 
ment. 

"  You  don't  mind,  do  you  ?  " 

Tom  looked  flushed  and  distressed,  and  Barbara, 
seeing  his  vexation,  felt  her  own  heart  kindle  with  sym- 
pathy. 

"  You  see,  I  have  always  been  used  to  a  town  life," 
said  their  guest ;  "  and  although  Plasturton  is  not 
a  large  town,  there  is  always  something  going  on  there. 
When  I  came  away  the  Assizes  were  on,  and  the  people 
were  full  of  excitement  over  one  of  the  cases.  A  man 
was  being  tried  for  killing  his  little  boy." 

"His  own  little  boy?  Oh,  how  dreadful! "  said  Bar- 
bara. 

203 


204  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  Yes ;  the  child  was  very  ill,  and  in  dreadful  pain. 
The  father,  who  idolised  him,  couldn't  bear  to  see  him 
suffer,  he  said,  so  gave  him  some  stuff  that  sent  him 
off  at  once,  and  the  man  was  taken  up  and  tried  for 
murder." 

"  I  read  the  account  of  it  in  one  of  the  papers,"  said 
Tom,  and  he  looked  furtively  at  Barbara,  who 
was  standing  by  the  fire,  nervously  twisting  and  un- 
twisting her  Handkerchief  in  her  hands.  She  was  very 
pale,  and  her  eyes  shone  with  an  unnatural  brillancy. 

"  Oh !  it  was  an  exciting  time,  I  can  tell  you,"  said 
Mabel ;  "  for  everyone  felt  strongly  on  one  side  or 
the  other,  some  people  saying  that  it  was  the  man's 
intense  love  for  his  boy  that  made  him  act  as  he  did, 
others  thought  it  was  impatience  at  having  to  nurse 
him  so  long."  \ 

"And  what  did  you  feel?"  said  Barbara. 

"I?  Oh,  I  never  trouble  my  head  much  about  such 
horrid  affairs.  The  man  was  found  guilty  of  man- 
slaughter, and  sentenced  to  ten  years'  penal  servitude. 
I  think  he  ought  to  have  been  hanged." 

"Poor  man!"  said  Barbara,  with  white  lips  and  a 
red  spot  on  each  cheek  under  the  bright  eyes.  Some 
strong,  controlling  force  seemed  to  compel  her  to 
speak,  while  Tom  stared  at  her  with  a  dumb  protest  in 
his  eyes. 

"  Can't  you  feel  for  him  ?  "  continued  Barbara ; 
"his  darling  child,  whose  least  pain  was  a  cruel  stab 
to  him,  to  save  whom  he  would  have  willingly  laid 
down  his  life,  I  expect;  he  was  suffering  terribly,  you 
say,  therefore,  if  by  giving  him  a  little  larger  dose  of 
medicine  than  was  prescribed  he  could  end  that  suffer- 
ing, can  you  wonder  that  he  did  so?  Of  course,  I  am 
supposing  that  the  child  could  not  recover.  What 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          205 

would  you  do  if  your  beloved  mother  was  dying,  in 
dreadful  agony,  and  if  she  begged  and  prayed  of  you 
to  relieve  her  torture,  and  help  her  to  die,  wouldn't 
you  do  so  if  you  could?  " 

"No,"  said  Mabel,  "of  course  not.     Would  you?" 

"Yes,"  said  Barbara,  "I  would." 

"Good  gracious!  But  we  have  no  right  to  shorten 
anyone's  life!" 

"But  if  she  could  not  possibly  recover?" 

"How  do  you  know?"  said  Mabel.  "People  have 
recovered  from  the  last  gasp  and  lived  for  years.  Be- 
sides, we  should  make  ourselves  liable  to  be  taken  up, 
to  be  hanged,  or  sent  to  prison  or  something." 

"  Well !  "  said  Barbara,  with  a  sudden  shange  of 
manner,  "let  us  talk  about  something  else."  She 
glanced  from  Mabel  to  Tom,  and  saw  that  the  latter 
appeared  disturbed  and  anxious,  while  Mabel  looked 
aghast. 

"I  am  sorry  if  I  have  shocked  you,"  said  Bar- 
bara, "  and  that  you  don't  like  the  old  mill.  I  am 
afraid  you  are  not  taking  a  very  pleasant  expression 
of  us  away  with  you." 

Mabel,  who  was  searching  for  her  furs,  pretended 
she  had  not  heard  the  last  words. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said,  shaking  hands  quietly.  "  I 
dare  say  we  should  differ  upon  many  subjects  if  we 
saw  much  of  each  other.  At  all  events,"  she  added, 
laughing,  "  I  should  not  like  you  to  be  my  nurse.  I'm 
afraid  you  would  be  sending  me  off  before  my 
time." 

"  That  is  nonsense,"  said  Tom,  seriously  annoyed. 
"  Really,  you  two  girls  have  got  on  to  the  most  morbid 
and  lugubrious  topics  I  ever  heard.  Come,  Mabel, 
let  us  go,"  he  said.  "  Mr.  Preece  will  be  waiting. 


206  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

Good-bye,  Barbara,"  and  they  were  gone,  but  in 
another  moment  Tom  had  returned  to  clasp  his  sister 
in  a  warm  embrace. 

"  What  in  the  world  was  the  matter  with  you  ?  "  he 
asked  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Oh,  Tom,  I  don't  know,  I  am  so  sorry,"  she  said. 
"  Go,  go,  don't  keep  Mabel  waiting." 

When  they  were  really  gone,  and  the  big  arched  door 
had  closed  behind  them,  she  sat  down  to  think.  This, 
then,  was  the  outcome  of  her  first  attempt  to  take 
the  world  into  her  confidence.  How  horrified  Mabel 
had  looked!  How  her  expression  had  changed!  Thus 
would  the  whole  world  look  upon  her  with  disappro- 
bation— more  than  that,  with  aversion.  No,  she  must 
bury  the  secret  still  in  her  heart,  she  must  hide  from 
everyone  the  simple  action  which  had  brought  peace 
and  rest  to  the  mother  whom  she  had  loved  with  such 
devotion,  and  had  soothed  and  comforted  her  in  the 
first  hours  of  her  own  sorrow;  it  had  seemed  an  im- 
perative duty  to  her,  but  evidently  no  one  else  would 
look  upon  it  in  the  same  light.  Was  it  possible  that  she 
had  done  wrong  after  all,  that  she  had  committed  a 
grave  sin — a  crime?  Perhaps  Michael  Lloyd  would 
have  understood  her,  she  believed  he  would,  and  would 
have  forgiven  her  if  the  deed  called  for  forgiveness. 
Would  that  she  had  told  him  everything,  and  that 
she  had  asked  for  his  opinion  and  advice;  but  it  was 
too  late,  he  had  gone  out  of  her  life,  and  she  must 
learn  to  walk  the  rugged  path  of  duty  alone.  And, 
oh!  dreadful  thought,  perhaps  even  he  would  turn 
against  her  when  Essylt  carried  out  her  threat  of  tell- 
ing him  what  "  her  two  eyes  had  seen." 

And  thus  did  Barbara,  so  brave  of  soul,  so  clear  of 
vision,  torment  herself  and  allow  herself  to  be  terrified 


UNDER    THE     THATCH          207 

by  an  imaginary  and  morbid  fancy ;  it  was  no  wonder 
that  she  grew  thin,  and  pale,  and  careworn. 

When  it  was  nearly  time  for  Tom  to  return  she  rose 
and  began  her  simple  preparations  for  their  evening 
meal.  She  laid  down  the  white  cloth,  and  blazed  up 
the  fire,  and  placed  his  slippers  on  the  hearth.  Poor 
Tom!  was  he  quite  happy?  she  wondered.  Would 
Mabel's  love  satisfy  his  heart?  She  was  a  good  girl, 
conscientious,  and  true,  and  proper — oh!  more  proper 
and  well  brought  up  than  she  and  Tom  had  ever  been. 
What,  then,  could  he  wish  for  more?  She  could  not 
tell,  but  she  felt  that  the  straight  and  narrow  grooves, 
and  the  formal  propriety  of  a  conventional  English 
girl's  life,  would  place  too  much  constraint  on  the  im- 
pulsive, emotional  spirit  of  a  Welshman.  "He  would 
be  sure  to  kick  over  the  traces  sometimes,"  she  said 
with  a  smile.  "  I  believe  I  would  myself."  And  so  lost 
was  she  in  her  own  thoughts  that  she  started  violently 
when  the  latch  of  the  big  door  was  raised  and  Tom 
himself  entered.  His  face  wore  a  curious  expression, 
which  Barbara,  who  knew  him  so  well,  found  it  very 
difficult  to  understand.  There  was  a  good  deal  of 
sentimental  tragedy,  some  indignation,  but  underlying 
all,  a  certain  alertness  and  freedom  which  had  been 
absent  from  him  of  late.  Barbara  ignored  that, 
though  she  saw  it,  and  addressed  herself  only  to  senti- 
mental dejection. 

"Don't  ask  me  any  questions,  Barbara;  some  other 
time  I'll  tell  you  all." 

"  Very  well,  dear,"  she  answered,  and  turned  to  pour 
out  his  beer ;  but  this  did  not  seem  quite  what  Tom 
wanted,  for  he  began  of  his  own  accord  to  tell  her  all, 
without  waiting  for  some  other  time,  and  between  the 
mouthfuls  of  his  bread  and  cheese  he  said  gloomily: 


208  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  Girls  are  funny  things." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  assented  Barbara,  recalling  the  two 
varieties  she  had  encountered  lately,  Essylt  and  Mabel. 

"  Well,  it's  all  over,"  said  Tom,  after  a  little  pause. 

"All  over?" 

"  Yes,  it's  all  off,  between  Mabel  and  me,  I  mean." 

"All  off?  Tom!"  gasped  Barbara. 

"Oh,  don't  fret  about  it,  dear,"  said  Tom,  who  saw 
that  she  had  changed  colour.  "I  am  not  going  to 
break  my  heart;  indeed,  there's  no  doubt  that  Mabel 
has  treated  me  shamefully,  but  never  mind,  it's  very 
evident  that  she  and  I  were  not  meant  for  each  other. 
What  d'you  think?  She  wanted  me  to  take  Plasyd- 
derwen ! " 

"  Tom ! " 

"  Yes ;  and  when  I  told  her  it  was  as  far  beyond  my 
means  as  if  she'd  asked  for  a  house  in  the  moon,  she 
said,  *  Well,  anyway,  I  don't  like  that  tumbledown 
mill,  with  its  thatch,  and  its  owls,  and  its  ghostly  stair- 
cases, and,  moreover,  Tom,  I  don't  like  your  sister 
Barbara,  and  that's  the  plain  truth;  she  and  I  would 
never  get  on  together.'  Did  you  ever  hear  such  a 
thing,  Barbara?"  and  he  moistened  his  dry  lips. 

"  Oh,  I'm  afraid  I've  done  all  the  mischief,"  said 
Barbara. 

"Well,  you  were  indiscreet,  no  doubt;  and  then  she 
went  on  to  say  that  she  did  not  like  the  ridiculous 
way  in  which  I  always  held  you  up  as  a  pattern,  and 
also  said  that  she  wouldn't  like  you  to  identify  yourself 
with  that  old  Peggy,  and  she  went  on  in  a  very  strange 
manner,  very  high  and  mighty,  and  domineering, 
Barbara,  and  at  last  she  capped  it  all  by  saying, 
*  Well,  if  we  ever  were  married,  you'd  have  to  choose 
between  Barbara  and  me.'  '  Well,  by  Jove,  I  choose 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          209 

Barbara,'  I  said.  I  was  dreadfully  annoyed,  and  did 
not  care  what  I  said.  We  had  just  reached  Mr. 
Preece's  door,  and  all  she  said  was,  '  All  right,  then, 
'tis  well  we  understand  each  other.' " 

From  this  account  of  his  troubles  it  will  be  seen  that 
Tom  was  not  likely  to  break  his  heart;  in  fact,  he  had 
been  ill  at  ease  of  late,  and  had  been  as  often  disturbed 
and  worried  by  Mabel's  moods  and  fancies  as  Michael 
Lloyd  had  been  by  Essylt's,  and  it  would  be  little 
exaggeration  to  say  that  the  graceful  and  elegant 
Mabel  had  lately  become  to  him  somewhat  of  a  white 
elephant. 

With  a  perfect  intuition  of  this,  Barbara  thought, 
"  The  least  said  the  soonest  mended." 

"  I  am  so  sorry,  Tom,"  was  all  she  said.  "  I  am 
afraid  I  have  been  a  good  deal  the  cause  of  this  rup- 
ture." 

"  Oh,  never  mind,"  said  Tom,  trying  to  look  like  a 
martyr.  "  It's  very  evident,  old  girl,  that  you  and  I 
will  have  to  stick  to  each  other  till  the  end  of  the  chap- 
ter ;  but,  Barbara,"  he  added,  "  you'll  have  to  be  quiet 
about  that  night  at  Caefran.  We  know  it's  all  right, 
but  other  people  will  not  think  so,  so  keep  it  all  to 
yourself,  dear." 

"I  will,  Tom.  I  came  to  that  decision  while  you 
were  out;  you  can  trust  me,  now.  I  will  keep  it  all  to 
myself."  And  this  she  did,  until,  as  the  days  and 
weeks  went  on,  she  grew  thinner  and  paler,  but  showed 
no  diminution  of  cheerfulness. 

Phil  seldom  came  in  to  see  them  unless  Barbara  her- 
self went  round  to  fetch  him,  when  he  would  follow 
her  in  a  shamefaced  manner,  treading  very  gingerly, 
and  sitting  down  on  the  edge  of  his  chair,  under  which 
he  always  placed  his  hat.  It  was  no  use  attempting 


210  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

to  draw  him  into  friendly  conversation  about  Michael, 
for  he  never  volunteered  a  remark  on  the  nratter,  and 
only  answered  in  monosyllables ;  therefore,  Barbara 
never  spoke  to  him  on  the  subject,  but  Tom  was  not 
so  reticent.  Indeed,  he  seldom  lost  a  chance  of  singing 
the  praises  of  his  friend,  whose  absence  from  Maen- 
trevor  made  a  great  blank  in  his  life. 

Phil's  shrewd  eye  was  not  slow  to  notice  Barbara's 
fading  looks,  and  thought  that  he  had  a  very  good 
clue  to  the  cause. 

"  Little  Miss,"  he  said  one  evening  to  Peggy,  "  is 
getting  thinner  and  paler  every  day.  What's  the  mat- 
ter with  her,  d'you  think?  What's  the  good  of  two 
old  bodies  like  you  and  me,  if  we  cannot  cheer  a  little 
soul  like  that?" 

"  Don't  know,  indeed,"  said  Peggy ;  "  but  there  is  a 
cause  for  everything,  and  I'm  thinking  that  the  doctor 
who  cut  that  wound  will  have  to  come  and  sew  it  up." 

"What  doctor?"  said  Phil  gruffly,  knowing  full 
well  whom  she  meant.  "  Dr.  Rees,  I  suppose." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Peggy,  chuckling ;  "  or,  if  he 
wasn't  at  home,  Dr.  Michael  Lloyd  might  come  and  do 
it  for  him."  And  as  she  placed  his  cai$l  before  him,  she 
took  the  opportunity  of  giving  him  a  nudge. 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes !  Philip  Lloyd,"  she  continued,  "  thou 
knowest  well,  and  so  do  I,  what  doctor  would  cure  her." 

"  What's  the  good  of  knowing  that,  if  we  can't 
bring  it  about?  He  is  going  to  marry  that  white  cat 
Essylt." 

"  White  cat ! "  exclaimed  Peggy,  losing  her  temper. 
"Oh,  jar-i!  I  won't  have  her  called  names.  There  is 
nobody  in  the  world  been  more  provoked  by  Essylt's 
ways  than  me;  it  was  only  this  morning,  if  you 
please,  she  said,  1 1  only  went  to  see  poor  John  James 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          211 

drinking  his  medicine  too,'  impudent  little  huzzy!  But 
don't  you  call  her  names,  Philip  Lloyd,  a  poor  orphan, 
without  a  father  or  mother." 

"  Well,  white  dove  or  white  lamb,  if  it  pleases  thee 
better,"  said  Phil  grimly.  "  I  don't  care  white  what ! 
if  she  only'll  keep  out  of  my  fold." 

"  Yes,  yes !  there  I'm  agreeing  with  thee ;  only  don't 
call  her  names — white  cat,  indeed ! "  and  she  went  to 
the  high  mantelshelf  and  began  to  dust  the  ornaments, 
her  usual  resource  when  she  wanted  to  work  off  a  spurt 
of  temper.  She  began  with  a  china  dog  at  one  end  with 
a  good  deal  of  snorting,  and  by  the  time  she  had 
reached  the  black  candlesticks  in  the  middle  she  had 
cooled  down  considerably,  and  was  quite  ready  for  a 
good  gossip  by  the  time  she  had  reached  the  china 
cottage  at  the  other  end.  • 

"Didst  see  poor  John  Jones's  funeral  to-day?" 

"  Well,  of  course,  I  did,  and  thee  at  the  tail-end  of 
it.  Why  wouldn't  I  see  it?  "  Phil  was  still  irritable, 
but  Peggy  took  no  notice. 

"Thou  wast  not  there  thyself,"  she  said,  a  little  re- 
proof in  her  voice,  for  to  attend  funerals  is  considered 
a  duty  as  well  as  an  enjoyment  in  Wales. 

"  No,"  said  Phil ;  "  I  don't  seen*  to  take  any  pleas- 
ure in  funerals  lately." 

"Oh,  well!"  said  Peggy  consolingly,  "thou  wilt  be 
better  again  when  thou  hast  cast  off  thy  cold — another 
bowl  of  catd?  " 

"  No.  I  don't  seem  to  care  for  cawl,  or  beer,  or  any- 
thing lately.  I'll  go  to  bed,  I  think,"  said  Phil,  with  a 
long-drawn  yawn ;  and  bolting  Peggy  out,  he  took  up 
his  candle  and  went  heavily  up  the  stairs. 

But  when  our  friends  in  the  old  mill  were  looking 
upon  life  with  saddened  eyes,  outside  Nature  was 


212  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

marching  buoyantly  and  steadily  onwards,  leaving 
behind  her  every  sign  of  cold  and  storm,  and  holding 
forth  her  hands  to  all  that  was  beautiful  and  joyous  in 
the  future,  to  the  daffodils,  and  ribes,  and  gilliflowers, 
and  all  the  sweet  scents  of  the  spring  which  filled  every 
heart  with  joyful  anticipations — for  darkened  indeed 
must  be  the  spirit  that  does  not  respond  to  the  greet- 
ings of  the  simple  country  flowers  of  spring. 

The  sweet  familiar  perfumes,  however,  failed  to  bring 
to  Barbara  the  usual  bounding  happiness  with  which 
she  was  wont  to  greet  their  advent.  She  gathered 
them,  indeed,  the  pale  primroses,  the  golden  daffodils, 
but  held  them  wistfully  in  her  hand,  and  looked  out 
over  them  with  a  vague  yearning  in  her  eyes. 

Her  walks  were  generally  over  the  seashore,  and 
home  by  the  road  from  Maentrevor.  She  never  turned 
her  steps  towards  the  path  by  the  lake,  for  in  that 
direction  she  dreaded  an  encounter  with  Essylt.  There 
was  not  much  danger  of  this,  however,  had  she  known 
it,  for  now  Essylt  seldom  went  beyond  the  precincts 
of  her  home  and  the  mill  garden,  where  she  made  a  pre- 
tence of  helping  Peggy  in  the  setting  of  it,  working 
under  a  running  fire  of  her  reproofs  and  expostulations. 

"  There's  a  bad  place  for  the  potato  bed,  now,  and 
those  leeks!  Dost  call  them  properly  sown?  They'll 
never  come  to  any  good." 

She  spent  many  hours  of  the  day  in  her  room,  with 
the  door  locked  upon  her,  sometimes  rising  at  night  to 
walk  by  the  side  of  the  lake,  disappearing  into  her 
usual  covert  in  the  thicket.  Sometimes  she  returned 
before  morning,  at  others  Peggy  knocked  in  vain  at 
her  lady  niece's  door,  at  last  turning  away  indignantly, 
and  giving  vent  to  her  anger  in  a  string  of  the  names 
which  she  had  objected  to  Phil's  using. 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 

And  so  the  month  passed  on — the  month  that  was 
so  important  to  Essylt  and  to  a  grave-eyed  man  in 
London,  who  knew  that  every  hour  as  it  sped  by  was 
leading  him  nearer  to  the  time  when  his  fate  would  be 
fixed  for  ever. 

Passing  one  day  by  a  square  garden,  a  familiar 
scent  reached  him,  and  looking  up  he  espied  a  fine  bush 
of  ribes  in  full  bloom.  The  perfume  sent  a  pang  to  his 
heart — a  memory  of  the  Caefran  garden,  of  the  or- 
chard, of  the  apple  trees,  which  must  now  be  in  blossom, 
of  a  rustic  tea-table  under  the  boughs,  of  a  little  hand 
that  moved  about  amongst  the  tea-things,  and  the 
charming  brown  eyes  that  looked  up  at  him  with  a 
dawning  love  in  their  depths,  and  he  turned  into  the 
busy  street  with  their  words  in  his  mind: 

"Oh,  memory!  fond  memory! 
When  all  things  fade  we  turn  to  thee. " 

But  neither  sentiment  nor  sorrow,  neither  fear  nor 
doubt,  will  retard  the  foot  of  Time.  On — on  he  comes, 
with  swift,  unerring  steps,  the  past  cast  behind  him 
for  ever,  the  present  trodden  under  his  feet,  the  mys- 
terious future  drawing  every  moment  nearer. 

Thus  Barbara  felt  as  she  sat  bending  over  some  bit 
of  feminine  work  in  the  old  west  parlour,  and  thus 
Essylt  felt  too,  though  she  could  not  have  put  her 
thoughts  into  words.  Philip,  poor  old  Philip,  would 
not  have  allowed  that  he  felt  anything  at  all,  so  he 
worked  with  more  energy,  and  his  laugh  was  louder 
than  usual  as  the  days  passed  on,  and  the  last  week 
came,  before  that  on  which  Michael  Lloyd  was  expected 
to  arrive. 

At  last  that  week  was  gone,  next  day  Michael  would 
be  there.  He  had  written  as  usual  to  bid  Essylt  meet 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 

him  on  the  woodland  path  if  fine,  if  not,  "  I  will  come 
to  thy  cottage,  Essylt,  and  we  can  make  all  our  ar- 
rangements, if  Peggy  will  allow,"  he  had  said. 

The  latter  had  become  less  excitable,  and  seemed 
quite  subdued  by  the  steady  march  of  events,  and  could 
only  stand  by,  as  it  were,  with  upraised  hands  and 
many  ejaculations. 

"  Well,  in  my  deed,  I  never  saw  such  a  thing !  Did 
one  ever  hear  of  a  girl  going  to  be  married  without 
preparing  a  rag  of  clothes?  No,  in  my  deed!  I  never 
saw  such  a  thing,  not  I !  Dost  remember,  lodes,  that 
Michael  Lloyd  is  coming  to-morrow?  It  oughtn't  to 
be  anything  to  thee,  but  it  is,  I'm  afraid,  ach-y-$l  " 

But  Essylt  went  calmly  on  her  way  with  that  in- 
scrutable smile  upon  her  red  lips,  her  light-fringed 
eyelids  half  closed  over  her  grey-green  eyes. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  remember  everything,"  she  said.  "  I  arn 
going  to  bed  now,  good-night." 

"  To  bed  ?  "  said  Peggy,  "  and  nothing  done !  The 
bread  not  out  of  the  oven,  and  the  duck  John  James' 
widow  gave  me  not  feathered ! " 

But  Essylt  had  already  gone  up  the  stairs  and  had 
reached  her  room  and,  bolting  her  door,  had  taken  out 
the  key,  and  after  oiling  it  carefully,  had  replaced  it 
in  the  lock.  There  was  a  clumsy,  crooked-legged  table 
at  the  window,  at  which  she  sat  down,  drawing  out  a 
deep  drawer  at  one  end  in  which  she  had  evidently  pre- 
pared a  supply  of  writing  materials.  These  she  now 
placed  on  the  table  before  her. 

Writing  a  letter  was  no  easy  task  for  her;  she 
squared  her  elbows  over  the  page,  and  with  her  head 
very  much  on  one  side,  began  to  write  slowly  and  labor- 
iously, at  first  halting  after  almost  every  word,  then 
more  smoothly,  till  at  last  her  pen  flew  on  more  fre- 
quently. 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          215 

The  twilight  deepened,  and  still  she  continued  to 
write.  The  stars  came  out,  the  darkness  fell,  and  she 
lighted  a  candle.  The  big  white  owl  in  the  gable  sailed 
past  the  window  and  cried  a  protest ;  still  Essylt  wrote 
on,  her  face  working  with  repressed  passion.  For  a 
time  she  stopped  to  rest,  leaning  back  in  her  chair  and 
thinking  with  all  the  mental  power  which  she  possessed, 
but  that  was  not  much.  "  Yes,  I  will,  I  will ! "  she  said, 
as  she  took  up  her  pen  again. 

She  heard  Peggy  go  out  to  pay  her  last  visit  to  the 
mill  kitchen,  she  heard  her  return,  and  leaving  her 
shoes  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs,  walk  up  in  her  stock- 
inged feet;  then  she  heard  the  more  distant  sounds  in 
the  west  gable,  where  Tom  and  Barbara  were  locking 
up  the  doors  and  windows  before  retiring  to  rest,  the 
very  echo  of  their  footsteps  seeming  to  exasperate  the 
strange  girl,  for  she  rose  to  listen,  and  trembled  as  she 
heard  the  key  turn  in  the  lock  of  Barbara's  room,  after 
which  there  was  a  dead  silence,  broken  only  by  the 
mysterious  sounds  of  night  which  seem  to  haunt  every 
old  house.  Then  she  sat  down  again,  and  seizing  her 
pen,  wrote  her  name  at  the  bottom  of  the  long  letter 
she  had  written.  When  at  last  it  was  folded  and  placed 
in  its  envelope,  she  fetched  from  her  work-box  a  stick 
of  red  sealing-wax,  and  sealed  the  letter  with  a  large 
patch,  marking  it  all  over  with  the  imprint  of  a  small 
key  which  she  took  from  her  pocket ;  then  she  addressed 
it  slowly  and  carefully,  and  thrust  it  into  her  pocket 
before  stretching  herself  down  on  her  bed,  where  she 
fell  into  a  restless,  troubled  sleep. 

At  midnight  she  was  still  sleeping;  for  two  or  three 
hours  longer  she  lay  there,  until  at  last,  when  the  night 
was  at  its  darkest  and  stillest,  at  that  hour  when  the 
death  of  one  day  and  the  birth  of  another  seems  to  have 
sapped  the  energies  of  Nature,  when  the  air  strikes 


216  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

cold,  and  the  tide  of  vitality  ebbs  low  in  the  human 
frame,  Essylt  stirred  a  little ;  she  awoke,  and  sitting  up 
hastily,  looked  round  at  her  candle. 

"  Not  morning !  no,  past  two,  it  must  be ! "  she  said, 
as  she  saw  how  low  the  light  had  burned,  and  rising, 
she  began  to  dress  herself  slowly,  and  as  if  weary.  She 
felt  for  her  letter  in  her  pocket,  and  looked  once  more 
with  suspicion  at  the  broad  red  seal,  then  she  took  from 
its  hook  her  old  grey  shawl,  and  wrapping  it  over  her 
head  and  shoulders  went  to  the  door  and  unlocked  it, 
her  precautions  of  the  night  before  enabling  her  to 
turn  the  key  with  ease  and  quietness.  Going  out,  she 
took  the  key  with  her,  and  relocked  the  door  on  the  out- 
side before  she  began  her  way  slowly  and  carefully 
down  the  stairs. 

Once  in  Peggy's  kitchen  it  was  easy  to  unbolt  the 
door  and  let  herself  out  into  the  fresh  night  air.  She 
heard  the  wind  whispering  and  sighing  in  the  Cwm 
Meivon  woods,  she  saw  the  stars  that  crowded  the  dark 
blue  sky,  she  saw  the  faint  outline  of  the  thatched  ga- 
bles of  the  mill,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  the 
scene,  the  sounds  impressed  her  senses,  and  the  picture 
remained  fixed  on  her  mind.  She  turned  her  back  upon 
the  mill  and  crossed  the  stile  into  the  woods.  Here  she 
was  in  her  old  haunts — no  human  voice  or  form  to  ex- 
asperate her;  she  walked  slowly  towards  the  lake,  and 
reaching  it,  stood  still  upon  the  bank,  staring  down  at 
the  glassy  surface,  on  which  the  myriad  stars  were  re- 
flected like  brilliant  gems.  She  stood  immovable  as  a 
statue,  merely  muttering  under  her  breath,  "  Yes,  yes, 
I  know !  there  is  peace  and  rest  down  there,  but  I  won't 
come  to  you.  I  mustn't,  I  can't,  you  are  cold  and  dark, 
and  I  am  a  coward ;  I  never  thought  I  was,  but  I  am, 
I  am,  or  I  wouldn't  go  on  bearing  and  suffering,  what- 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          217 

ever;  they  shall  think  that  I  am  safe  out  of  It,  but 
I'm  not,  I'm  not,  I'm  not!"  she  cried  with  increasing 
excitement,  and  she  shook  her  clenched  fist  towards 
the  old  mill,  whose  thatched  points  showed  against  the 
stars. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said,  "  good-bye  to  you  all,  and  if 
there  is  a  God,  may  He  serve  you  as  you  have  served 
me — that's  only  fair,  whatever.  Good-bye,  Michael," 
and  her  voice  took  on  a  tone  of  tenderness.  "  Thou 
alone  hast  been  kind  to  me.  Good-bye!  fforwel." 

She  walked  hurriedly  along  the  path  by  the  water's 
edge,  her  face  buried  in  her  hands,  her  shoulders  heav- 
ing with  dry  sobs  which  shook  her  whole  frame,  but 
which  were  not  relieved  by  tears.  Her  footsteps  stag- 
gered unevenly  sometimes  as  she  hastened  on,  until  at 
last,  having  rounded  the  lake,  she  reached  the  thick 
undergrowth  of  the  wood,  and  stooping  under  the 
trailing  branches  disappeared  in  the  dark  shadows. 


CHAPTER  XV 

IT  was  the  last  day  of  March,  bright  and  blue  and 
sunny.  It  had  been  a  kindly  month  on  the  whole,  its 
blustering  storms,  over  early,  coming  in  like  a  lion,  as 
they  say,  and  now  it  was  exemplifying  the  rest  of  the 
adage  by  going  out  like  a  lamb.  The  keen  winds  were 
tempered  by  a  brilliant  sun,  and  spring  was  sprinkling 
her  flowers  broadcast  over  the  land.  The  mill  door  was 
wide  open,  and  within  Phil  was  busy  with  the  roasting 
of  a  large  cynos  of  oats.  The  farm-servant  from 
Tyissa  was  sitting  on  the  steps  of  the  grain-loft,  while 
the  miller  occupied  his  favourite  seat  on  an  upturned 
barrel  beside  him.  They  had  discussed  the  affairs  of 
the  country-side,  Phil  being  more  chatty  than  usual  in 
his  anxious  endeavours  to  keep  the  talk  away  from  the 
Cwm  Meivon  gossip;  but  Dafi  was  no  longer  to  be  led 
off  the  scent,  and  asked  him  bluntly,  "  Isn't  it  to-day 
Dr.  Lloyd  is  coming  home  from  London  ?  " 

Phil  rose  to  stir  the  oats  over  the  kiln,  and  the  hot 
steam  rose  like  smoke  from  the  roasting  corn,  filling  the 
mill  with  fumes.  He  drew  his  handkerchief  over  his 
heated  face. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  replied. 

"  I  heard  it  was,"  said  Dafi ;  "  but  you  would  know, 
I  suppose,  and  I  heard  he  was  going  to  marry  that  girl 
Essylt.  Dei  anwll  there's  a  strange  thing,  eh?" 

Phil  made  no  answer  as  he  busied  himself  between 
the  sacks  of  corn,  and  Dafi  continued: 

"A  gentleman  like  him — 'cause  he  is  a  gentleman, 
and  no  mistake — going  to  marry  Peggy  Jerry's  niece ! 

218 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          219 

Odd  thing,  isn't  it?  I  am  sure  you  are  not  liking  it, 
eh?" 

"  Look  here,  man,"  said  the  miller,  trying  to  keep  his 
temper  under  control,  "  'tis  wasting  the  Tyissa  oats 
we've  got  in  hand,  we  are,  this  afternoon.  I've  naught 
to  say  about  anything  else — dost  hear?  " 

"  Oh,  begging  pardon,"  says  Dafi  humbly,  for  Phil 
was  a  man  of  some  importance  in  Cwm  Meivon,  "  only 
thinking,  I  was." 

"Well!  never  mind  thy  thoughts  now.  Here's  little 
miss  coming  back  from  her  walk — must  be  later  than 
we  thought,"  and  they  both  looked  out  to  see  Barbara's 
trim  little  figure  crossing  the  green,  her  hands  laden 
with  spring  flowers. 

She  went  straight  to  her  own  west  gable.  Generally 
she  would  call  at  Phil's  cottage  and  leave  half  her 
treasures  there,  but  to-day  she  shrank  from  coming  in 
contact  with  Essylt,  whom  she  had  not  met  since  their 
encounter  at  the  edge  of  the  lake — indeed,  Essylt 
seemed  not  at  all  anxious  to  meet  Barbara  either.  She 
was  seldom  to  be  seen  except  in  the  garden  behind  her 
cottage,  and  Barbara  had  found  no  difficulty  in  avoid- 
ing a  meeting.  On  entering  she  found  the  old  rose- 
bowl,  and  sat  down  to  arrange  the  flowers — daffodils, 
pale  blue  periwinkles,  primroses,  the  budding  sweet- 
briar — and  when  she  had  finished  she  stood  up  to 
admire  her  arrangements.  Suddenly  the  door  opened 
and  Peggy  appeared,  looking  pale  with  anger  and 
excitement. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  said  Barbara. 

"  Enough  is  the  matter,  Miss  vdch,  for  there's  Essylt 
shut  up  in  her  room  all  day !  Never  a  bit  of  breakfast, 
never  a  mouthful  of  dinner  has  she  had!  I  have 
knocked  and  called  at  the  door  till  I'm  out  of  breath, 


220  UNDER    THE    THATCH 

but  she  won't  answer  more  than  the  dead.  Come  you 
up,  Miss  vach;  she  won't  dare  to  refuse  you." 

"  Oh,  Peggy,"  said  Barbara,  "  I  can't — indeed  I 
can't.  Let  her  be !  I  dare  say  she  is  busy  preparing 
for — for  her  wedding." 

"  Preparing?  Not  she — not  a  bit  of  {  preperascion ' 
have  I  seen — no  more  than  if  she  was  never  going  to  be 
married.  No,  no,  Miss  vacJi,  she  has  one  of  her  '  stupet' 
fits  on.  Come  up  with  me,  I  beg  of  you,"  and  seeing 
that  Peggy  was  evidently  distressed  and  frightened, 
Barbara  nerved  herself  to  help  her,  and  followed  her  up 
the  stairs,  ashamed  to  feel  that  she  was  trembling  with 
nervousness  herself. 

"Essylt,"  called  Peggy,  thumping  the  black  oak 
door  with  her  fist.  "  Dost  hear,  lodes?  Open  the  door, 
this  minute,  too ! "  and  again  she  thumped  vigorously, 
but  there  was  no  answer  from  within. 

"Dost  hear,  Essylt?  Open,  I  tell  thee — here's  Miss 
Barbara  waiting  here.  How  darest  thou  keep  her 
standing,  thou  little  villanes ! " 

"  Oh,  Peggy,  hush,"  said  Barbara.  "  Don't  call  her 
names." 

"  Names,  indeed ! "  said  Peggy,  who  was  every 
moment  waxing  more  wrathful.  "  I'll  name  her,  when 
she  comes  out,"  and  she  knocked  again  excitedly  upon 
the  door. 

"  Let  me  try,"  said  Barbara,  "  or  what  was  the  use 
of  my  coming  up  with  you  ?  "  and  she  tapped  at  the 
door.  "  Essylt !  "  she  cried,  "  Peggy  is  very  nervous 
about  you.  Won't  you  come  out  and  set  her  fears  at 
rest?"  and  then  paused  to  listen;  but  there  was  no 
answer,  no  sound  except  the  wind  whistling  through  the 
keyhole. 

"  There's  no  key  in  the  lock,"  said  Peggy,  stooping 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 

down  and  peeping  in  as  well  as  she  could.  "  She's  not 
here.  I  can  see  the  table,  and  the  pen  and  ink  on  it. 
Essylt ! "  she  shouted  again,  "  art  coming  out,  or 
I'll  have  the  door  burst  open.  I  will,  as  sure  as  my 
name  is  Peggy ! " 

"  I  don't  think  she  is  in  the  room,"  said  Barbara. 
"  Come  downstairs,  and  let  her  have  her  own  time." 

"  But,  dear  heart,"  said  Peggy,  "  you  don't  know, 
perhaps,  to-day  Maychael  Lloyd  is  coming  home,  be- 
cause, indeed,  I — I'm  never  speaking  about  it  to  you, 
for  I  am  ashamed  of  such  a  thing  as  this  wedding. 
Did  you  know  ?  "  she  asked  diffidently. 

"  Yes,"  said  Barbara,  "  I  know,  Peggy." 

"  Was  any  poor  woman  ever  so  bothered  as  I  have 
been  with  this  girl — sometimes  smooth  as  butter,  and 
then  I  find  she's  laughing  at  me  all  the  time ;  sometimes 
won't  speak  a  word  to  me  for  days,  the  impudent  little 
huzzy!  What  will  I  say  when  Maychael  Lloyd 
comes  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  she  has  gone  through  the  woods  to  meet 
him,"  Barbara  suggested;  her  lips  felt  dry  and 
parched,  and  her  voice  was  husky  and  sounded  un- 
natural, and  Peggy  looked  at  her  keenly,  for  her  con- 
versation with  Phil  had  only  strengthened  her  impres- 
sions concerning  Michael's  and  Barbara's  feelings 
towards  each  other. 

"  Ach-y-fi! "  she  said  as  she  reached  the  bottom 
stair,  "  the  world  is  full  of  troubles,  but  in  my  deed, 
'tis  the  follies  of  it  that  worry  me  most.  Well!  I'll 
leave  the  out-door  open,  and  let  my  lady  turn  up  when 
she  likes.  I  won't  wait  tea  for  her,  and  you  shall  have 
your  tea  in  a  minute,  Miss  vacTi"  and  she  began  laying 
her  table  with  a  great  clattering  of  tea-cups,  under 
cover  of  which  Barbara  made  her  escape  into  the  par- 


222  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

lour,  where  she  sat  down  at  the  west  window  and  looked 
out  at  the  evening  sky  as  she  had  done  a  few  weeks 
ago,  when  Michael  Lloyd  had  come  to  wish  her  "  good- 
bye." She  sat  very  still  and  silent,  until  at  last  her 
eyes  drooped  to  her  hands  folded  upon  her  lap.  It 
would  seem  like  sacrilege  to  reveal  thoughts  that  she 
kept  so  safely  locked  within  her  own  heart,  so  we  will 
leave  her  there,  while  the  daylight  passes  and  the  even- 
ing shadows  draw  on. 

Tom  came  home  to  his  tea,  and  had  to  be  attended 
to,  Barbara  endeavouring  to  cast  off  every  trace  of 
depression. 

"  Who  do  you  think  has  come  home,  Barbara  ?  "  he 
said  at  last.  "  Why !  Michael  Lloyd !  "  He  stopped  to 
look  critically  at  the  spring  flowers  in  the  rose-bowl 
to  avoid  embarrassing  Barbara,  whom  he  felt,  rather 
than  saw,  was  changing  colour,  from  white  to  red,  from 
red  to  white.  His  own  experiences  of  late  had  made 
him  more  alive  to  other  people's  troubles,  and  he  had 
a  very  shrewd  guess  as  to  how  things  stood  between 
Barbara  and  Michael. 

"Is  he?  "  she  said,  as  naturally  as  she  could.  "Was 
he  quite  well  ?  Did  you  speak  to  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom.  "  Just  a  few  words.  Dr.  Rees 
was  with  him.  How  lovely  these  flowers  are ! "  and  he 
rose  with  a  yawn  and  strolled  on  to  the  little  porch 
and  round  to  the  green,  whence  he  returned  very  soon 
with  a  serious  face.  "Have  you  seen  Peggy?"  he 
said.  "  She  is  in  a  regular  fix  about  Essylt,  can't  find 
her  anywhere.  Where  can  she  be,  Barbara?  Peggy 
wants  me  to  go  up  and  call  her ;  but  if  she  has  resisted 
Peggy's  blandishments,  and  her  prolific  vocabulary  of 
abuse,  she  is  not  likely  to  listen  to  me.  Had  I  better 
go  to  the  mill  and  ask  Phil's  advice  ?  " 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          223 

"  Oh,  no ;  he  wouldn't  advise  you.  You  know  how  he 
hates  Essylt." 

"  I  had  forgotten.  I  always  said  there  was  some- 
thing mysterious  and  uncanny  about  that  girl — but 
really,  where  can  she  be?  " 

"  I  doji't  know,"  said  Barbara,  a  little  impatiently. 
"  I  think  Peggy  is  making  a  fuss  about  nothing.  Essylt 
will  come  when  she  chooses,"  and  Tom  went  out  again 
and  came  back  soon,  saying  that  Peggy  had  agreed  to 
wait  patiently  until  the  girl  appeared ;  but  the  twilight 
faded,  and  the  darkness  fell,  the  stars  came  out,  and 
Peggy  stood  at  her  door,  continually  gazing  up  at 
them  as  if  she  expected  some  information  from  their 
brilliance.  At  last,  however,  she  gave  up  hoping,  and 
reluctantly  went  to  bed,  taking  care  to  leave  the  door 
ajar;  but  Essylt  never  came,  and  when  Peggy  came 
down  in  the  morning,  she  sought  in  vain  for  any  sign 
of  the  absent  girl. 

There  was  no  mark  on  the  path,  no  footstep  on  the 
dewy  green.  Peggy  sat  down  to  weep  and  wring  her 
hands.  All  her  anger  against  Essylt  had  disappeared, 
all  her  faults  were  condoned.  She  was  a  dear  little 
child  without  father  or  mother,  and  her  sobs  and  wail- 
ing filled  the  cottage  and  reached  Barbara's  ears  in 
the  west  parlour.  Certainly  there  was  no  longer  peace 
and  calm  under  the  thatch  of  the  old  mill.  Presently 
Barbara  entered,  and  Peggy  was  indignant  at  her 
composure.  "  Oh,  Miss  vdch,  you  are  looking  as  quiet 
and  happy  as  if  everything  was  all  right.  Look  at  me, 
losing  my  only  comfort — the  prop  of  my  old  age !  " 

"  Well,  but  wait,  Peggy,  let  me  ask  you !  Haven't 
you  complained  many  times  about  Essylt  that  she  has 
refused  to  open  the  door,  though  you  begged  and  im- 
plored her  to  do  so?  I  don't  believe  any  harm  has  come 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 

to  her.  She  has  gone  to  some  friend,  perhaps,  and  will 
come  back  by  and  by." 

"  And  perhaps  she  is  lying  dead  in  there  by  herself. 
I'll  have  Benjamin  the  blacksmith  to  undo  the  lock, 
because  I  can't  sit  down  here  with  my  face  like  a  smil- 
ing dolt,  and  my  poor  Essylt  roaming  about  the  world. 
Perhaps  she  is  dead !  " 

Barbara  was  quite  conscious  of  the  implied  rebuke, 
and  inwardly  amused  at  Peggy's  simile. 

"  I  am  trying  to  be  quiet.  It  wouldn't  do  to  have 
us  both  in  wild  excitement.  Come  now!  Take  your 
breakfast,  and  I  will  go  down  and  fetch  the  black- 
smith," and  she  passed  out  to  the  pearly  green,  her 
footsteps  making  the  first  marks  upon  it. 

"Oh!  I'll  come,  miss,"  said  Benjamin,  gathering 
his  tools  together.  "  I'll  soon  have  the  door  open.  It's 
one  of  Essylt's  sulky  moods,  I  expect.  There's  a  pity, 
this  nice  man  Michael  Lloyd  is  going  to  tie  such  a  clog 
around  his  own  neck ! " 

"  It's  no  business  of  ours,"  said  Barbara.  "  Peggy 
is  very  anxious,  so  come  at  once,  please." 

"No!  no!  no!"  said  Benjamin,  "'tis  no  business  of 
mine,  but  if  I  was  Michael  Lloyd  I  would  not  raise  a 
finger  to  find  her.  Here  we  are!"  he  said,  as  they 
reached  Peggy's  door. 

"  Why,  Peggy,  woman,  what's  the  matter  with 
thee?"  he  asked,  as  she  raised  a  loud  wail.  "Essylt's 
only  playing  some  of  her  little  tricks  upon  thee.  She'll 
be  back  to-morrow  or  the  next  day  as  fresh  as  a  new- 
laid  egg.  Come  on !  let's  see  the  door ! "  and  they  fol- 
lowed him  upstairs. 

"  Dei  anivl!  Here  is  solidness  and  strength ! "  he 
said.  "  They  don't  make  these  sort  of  doors  now- 
adays," and  with  his  strong  tools  he  soon  prised  the 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          225 

lock,  and  the  door  flew  open  upon  its  hinges.  They  all 
entered,  and  found  no  sign  of  the  missing  girl,  but  the 
bed  had  been  lain  upon  on  the  outside,  although  cer- 
tainly not  slept  in  since  it  was  made. 

"  Now  take  my  advice,"  said  Barbara,  "  and  wait 
patiently  till  she  turns  up." 

"  Supposing  she  does  not  turn  up  ?  " 

"  Well !  then  it  will  be  time  enough  to  decide  what 
we'd  better  do.  At  present  we  can  only  wait." 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Barbara  heard  a 
calm,  resonant  voice  in  Peggy's  kitchen.  She  knew  it 
at  once.  It  was  Michael  Lloyd's. 

"  I  did  not  come  sooner,  Peggy,  because  I  heard 
Essylt  was  away,"  he  said.  "What's  all  this  fuss 
thou  art  making  about  it?  She  will  come  back  when 
she  wishes  to — nobody  wants  to  force  the  girl's  actions 
— let  her  be !  She  will  come  back  all  right,  to-morrow 
or  the  day  after." 

"  That  is  all  very  well  for  you  to  say.  It  won't  make 
much  difference  to  you,  I  suppose,  whether  she  comes 
back  or  not,  but  to  me,  bereft  of  all  my  comforts — to 
lose  my  little  Essylt  will  be  the  last  blow." 

"  Well !  come,  give  me  a  cup  of  tea.  Perhaps  by 
the  time  we  have  finished,  Essylt  will  have  returned," 
and  Peggy  waited  upon  'him  with  many  "  ach-y-fis  " 
and  sighs  and  groans. 

"  You  will  go  in  and  see  the  little  miss  and  Mr.  Tom, 
won't  you  ?  "  said  Peggy. 

"  Not  to-day.  I  have  to  return  to  Maentrevor," 
and  he  made  his  way  out  to  the  green  and  crossed  to 
the  stile,  although  his  footsteps  would  have  turned 
more  naturally  to  the  old  porch.  Once  in  the  wood- 
land path  alone  he  was  overwhelmed  by  a  flood  of 
memories — memories  of  Essylt — not  happy,  riot  en- 


226  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

clearing — for  she  seemed  to  have  been  born  to  be  a 
source  of  trouble  and  annoyance  to  him,  and  yet  there 
had  been  a  night  in  the  long  past  when  she  had  walked 
by  his  side  on  the  shore,  when  to  his  boyish  and  heated 
imagination  she  seemed  all  that  was  beautiful  and 
guileless. 

The  afternoon  sun  was  glittering  on  the  ripples  of 
the  lake;  daffodils  were  nodding  to  their  shadows  on 
its  bosom ;  the  birds  sang  blithesome  in  the  brake.  He 
would  not  let  his  thoughts  run  into  a  tender  groove.  In 
one  direction  he  would  not  let  memory  awake!  and  he 
had  nearly  succeeded  in  emptying  his  mind  of  all  con- 
scious thought,  when  suddenly  there  flashed  before  him 
an  idea  that  seemed  to  have  power  to  sting  him. 
Essylt's  repeated  allusions  to  peace  and  rest  which  she 
thought  could  be  found  only  under  the  cool  waters  of 
the  lake ;  at  once  he  was  alive  to  all  possibilities,  and 
wondered  why  he  had  not  sooner  thought  of  this  ex- 
planation of  the  girl's  absence.  "  Oh,  God !  "  he  said, 
looking  down  into  its  still  depths.  "  I  could  never 
forgive  myself — no,  never!  never! — it  would  be  too 
terrible !  too  tragic !  Let  me  see !  What  can  I  do  now  ? 
I  have  made  a  pretty  muddle  of  my  life — there's  no 
doubt  of  that,  but  this  tragic  end  to  poor  Essylt's 
life — if  it  has  occurred,  and  I  very  much  fear  it  has — 
will  be  the  crowning  point  of  the  blunder.  Tom,"  he 
thought,  "has  an  old  head  on  young  shoulders — per- 
haps I  could  not  do  better  than  consult  him,"  and, 
acting  upon  the  spur  of  the  moment,  he  was  soon 
hurrying  along  the  road  to  Maentrevor. 

"  Good  Lord !  man,"  said  Tom,  "  what  an  awful 
idea !  But  indeed,  you  may  be  right.  Fancy  your  ask- 
ing my  advice,  too !  Indeed,  I  feel  honoured,  Michael. 
Of  course,  if  the  poor  girl  does  not  turn  up  soon  you 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          227 

will  have  real  cause  to  think  she  has  drowned  herself. 
The  natural  thing  would  be  to  drag  the  lake  at  once,  to 
go  to  Llangraig  to  get  one  of  the  fishermen  there  to 
bring  up  his  boat  and  his  grappling-irons,  and  to  send 
the  Tyissa  cart  for  them." 

"  Is  that  your  advice,  then?  "  said  Michael.  "'Twill 
cause  a  sensation  all  over  the  neighbourhood." 

"  Wait,"  said  Tom.  "  I  have  another  course  to  pro- 
pose. If  that  fails,  we  must  drag  the  lake.  Did  she 
really  say  that  peace  and  rest  were  only  to  be  found 
there,  poor  girl?  What  a  life  of  unrest  hers  seems  to 
have  been,  and  with  so  much  to  make  her  happy! 
Strange !  very  strange !  Before  we  entertain  that  idea 
seriously,  Michael,  let  us  try  this  plan  first.  Do  you 
remember  at  the  dark  end  of  the  lake,  where  I  told 
you  I  saw  her  disappear  into  the  brushwood?  " 

"  Do  you  think  she's  hiding  there,  like  a  fox  or  a 
sheep-dog?"  said  Michael. 

"  I  don't  know.  Let  us  go  to-night,  and  search  for 
her  there.  Something  tells  me  we  shall  find  her.  Shall 
we  start  at  once?"  He  looked  at  his  watch.  "Time 
to  close  the  office.  Come,  let  us  get  off  on  our  search." 

"  Well,  no !  I  think  the  better  plan  would  be  that 
we  should  both  go  back  to  Cwm  Meivon  to-night  to 
explain  our  plans  to  Peggy,  and  you  would  like  to  tell 
your  sister  what  we  are  going  to  do,  and  to-morrow, 
Tom — d'you  think  you  could  give  me  the  whole  day?  " 

"Of  course!  I  will  explain  to  Mr.  Preece.  I  shall 
be  at  your  service  all  day,  old  fellow.  Awfully  grieved 
I  am,  Michael,  about  all  this  trouble." 

"  I  know,"  said  Michael  gloomily.  "  I  thought  I 
was  prepared  for  anything,  but  certainly  I  was  not 
prepared  for  this.  Come,  let  us  start !  "  and  they  were 
soon  walking  together  through  the  woods,  both  silent 


228  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

and  preoccupied;  but  when  they  reached  the  turn  to 
the  lake  they  both  stopped  with  one  accord,  and  looked 
towards  the  thicket  which  they  meant  to  explore  next 
day.  After  a  long  look  at  it,  Michael  shook  his  head. 

"  I  have  not  much  hope  of  finding  any  clue  there, 
Tom,"  he  said,  "but  we've  agreed  to  try  it  to-morrow 
morning.  I  will  be  ready  by  nine  o'clock. 

"  All  right ! "  said  Tom ;  "  and  should  we  fail,  we'll 
go  on  to  Llangraig  and  get  Will  Jones's  boat  out." 

Michael  acquiesced. 

The  next  day  they  met  according  to  appointment. 
"  Now,  who's  going  to  be  the  first  to  attack  this 
thicket?  "  said  Michael. 

"  I  am,"  answered  Tom,  "  for  I  know  exactly  where 
I  saw  Essylt  enter  it;  but  upon  my  word,"  he  added, 
standing  in  front  of  the  wall  of  thorns,  "I  can't  think 
how  she  did  it !  Ah !  I  have  it,"  he  said,  groping  about 
on  the  ground.  "  Look  here,  Michael,  this  briar-bush 
has  grown  flat  on  the  ground,  see!  I  lift  it  up  bodily 
and  thus  make  room  for  you  to  pass  under  it.  Come! 
step  in,  and  I  will  follow,"  and  in  a  few  moments  the 
two  men  stood  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall  of  greenery, 
although  for  a  little  longer  they  had  to  fight  their  way 
through  the  long  rope-like  brambles.  At  last  they 
found  themselves  in  the  recesses  of  the  forest.  No  path 
of  any  kind  could  be  seen — the  woods  were  full  of  song. 
"  Come,  sing  with  me,"  said  the  thrush ;  "  Come,  dance 
with  us,"  said  the  bluebells  in  the  glade ;  "  Come,  listen 
to  me,  I  have  a  fairy  tale  to  tell  you,"  said  the  stream- 
let that  gurgled  under  the  leaves,  but  the  two  young 
men  hearkened  not  to  them,  although  they  both  felt  the 
call  of  spring.  Sometimes  they  stopped  to  call  aloud, 
"  Essylt !  Essylt ! "  and  Tom  started  at  the  curious 
effect  of  his  voice.  There  was  no  echo  from  hill  to 


UNDER    THE    THATCH          229 

hill,  but  a  soft  sibilant  whisper  between  the  distant 
tree-trunks. 

"Essylt!  Essylt!  How  weird !"  said  Tom.  "I 
never  noticed  that  effect  before." 

"  And  yet  it  is  very  natural,"  said  Michael.  "  The 
sound  returns  to  us  from  those  myriad  shining  tree- 
trunks." 

"We  are  coming  to  the  end  of  them,  then,"  said 
Tom ;  "  for  yonder  I  see  the  beginning  of  a  fir-wood. 
I  recognise  the  place  now — have  been  here  rook-shoot- 
ing sometimes,  but  I  have  never  come  from  this  direc- 
tion before.  I  had  no  idea  that  these  woods  reached 
our  lake.  See!  there  is  a  path,  Michael,  or  at  least 
a  faint  track." 

"Yes,  for  certain  someone  has  walked  this  way," 
said  Michael ;  "  and  see ! "  he  said,  loosening  a  bit  of 
grey  flannel  from  a  thorn-bush,  "  isn't  that  a  bit  of 
Essylt's  shawl?" 

"  Yes !  I'll  swear  to  it  anywhere,"  said  Tom.  "  And 
by  Jove !  there's  a  cottage.  Why,  of  course,  the  wood- 
man's ! " 

"Is  it?"  said  Michael.  "I  have  never  been  here 
before — we  may  learn  something  there." 

Drawing  nearer  to  the  house  they  were  greeted  by  a 
furious  barking  from  a  large  sheep-dog.  He  stood 
at  the  open  door,  and  although  he  protested  loudly  he 
seemed  somewhat  embarrassed  in  his  actions  by  the 
presence  of  a  toddling  baby,  who  steadied  his  uncer- 
tain steps  by  digging  his  fingers  into  the  dog's  thick 
coat. 

"  Poor  fellow !  Good  dog !  "  said  Michael,  approach- 
ing a  little  nearer,  but  the  dog  growled  fiercely,  show- 
ing its  white  teeth  and  bristling  mane. 

"  There  is  someone  within,"  said  Tom.       "  I  saw  a 


shadow  move.  Hallo ! "  he  cried  loudly.  A  slow  step 
was  heard  shuffling  nearer,  and  through  an  open  door 
at  the  end  of  the  kitchen  an  old  man  advanced.  In 
his  hand  he  held  a  bunch  of  herbs  or  weeds,  and  his  dim 
eyes  blinked  as  he  came  into  the  sunshine  of  the  outer 
room. 

"  Down,  Tango,"  he  said.  "  He's  quite  quiet,  sir, 
when  we  are  with  him." 

"  A  good  house-dog,"  said  Michael.  "  He  would 
not  let  us  come  near  the  door." 

"Oh,  no,  sir!  he  knows  better  than  that.  When  we 
are  away  he  has  to  guard  the  house  and  the  baby. 
Come  in,  gentlemen !  come  in !  " 

"We  won't  detain  you  long,"  said  Michael,  as  they 
entered  the  pleasant  kitchen  where  Tango  and  the 
baby  had  already  settled  themselves  on  the  hearth. 
"  We  have  come  on  a  very  strange  errand.  A  young 
girl  from  Cwm  Meivon  has  been  missing  for  some  days, 
and  we  thought  it  possible  she  might  have  strayed  this 
way.  She  is  not  here,  is  she?" 

"Here?"  said  the  old  man.  "  Cat on  Pawb!  No,  sir, 
we  are  too  full  here  already.  This  is  my  daughter  and 
son-in-law's  bedroom,"  and  he  unlatched  the  door  on 
the  right. 

"  And  a  very  nice  room  it  is,  too ! "  said  Tom,  en- 
tering without  scruple  and  taking  a  good  look  round. 
"  I  wouldn't  mind  sleeping  here  myself.  I  suppose  you 
have  no  room  for  a  lodger?  " 

"Oh,  dear,  no!"  said  the  old  man.  "That  little 
room  in  here  is  where  I  dry  my  herbs  and  things. 
There's  a  loft  above  here  where  I  sleep,  and  that's  all 
the  room  I  have  here;  but,  dear  me!  about  the  poor 
girl.  What  was  her  name?  " 

"  Essylt  Lewis,"  said  Tom.     "  A  pale  girl  with  very 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          231 

light  hair,  and  rather  drooping  eyelids.  You  haven't 
seen  anyone  of  that  description  passing  here,  have 
you?"  " 

"  Well,"  said  the  old  man,  rubbing  his  chin  thought- 
fully, "  I  may  have  indeed,  about  three  weeks  or  a 
month  ago." 

"  Oh,  no !  no ! — two  or  three  days  ago,"  said  Michael. 

"  I'll  ask  my  daughter  when  she  comes  home — she's 
gone  to  Bryncelyn  to  buy  butter,  but  she'll  be  back 
directly,  I'm  thinking." 

"  Oh !  well !  we  won't  wait,"  said  Michael.  "  We  may 
meet  her,"  and  they  went  out  again  into  the  broad  sun- 
shine. 

"  What  a  large  shed ! "  said  Tom,  approaching  the 
window  of  the  woodshed.  "Full  up  with  fagots,  I 
see!" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  man,  unlocking  the  lower  half  of 
the  door,  and  exhibiting  with  pride  the  fagots  within 
that  almost  burst  through  the  doorway.  "  Fires  for 
the  winter,  you  see,"  he  said  with  a  pleased  laugh. 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom  cheerfully.  "  You  have  a  fine 
blaze  sometimes,  I  expect." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  man.  "  That  is  the  best  of  my 
son-in-law's  occupation,  you  see.  He's  Colonel  Howell's 
chief  woodman,  and  we  are  allowed  as  much  briwyd 
as  we  like." 

"  Well !  good  morning : "  Tom  called  back.  "  You 
live  in  a  lovely  spot." 

"  I  hope  we  have  not  detained  you  too  long,"  said 
Michael.  "Will  you  inquire  of  all  your  friends,  if 
they  have  seen  anything  of  a  young  girl  such  as  we 
have  described?  " 

"  Dear  anwl!  Yes,  indeed,  sir — but  don't  you  vex 
too  much.  She  is  sure  to  turn  up  some  day,"  and  they 


232  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

left  the  old  man  tugging  his  forelock  in  the  dazzling 
sunshine. 

"  No  success,  Tom !  What  shall  we  do  now !  Ah ! 
there's  the  woman  coming,"  and  they  met  the  wood- 
man's wife,  carrying  a  pound  of  butter  on  a  blue  plate. 
Once  more  they  began  their  inquiries,  but  she  seemed 
still  less  able  than  her  father  to  give  them  any  infor- 
mation. 

"  A  girl,  sir?    No,  indeed ! " 

Every  question  was  answered  with  a  stolid  "  No,  in- 
deed !  "  or  "  I  don't  know.  A  girl  in  these  woods  ?  Oh ! 
dear  anwl,  no.  There's  nobody  but  us  ever  coming 
this  way." 

"Did  you  ever  see  such  a  specimen  of  stolid  igno- 
rance? " 

"  No,"  said  Michael.  "  'Tis  wonderful  how  few  ideas 
BOine  people  carry  in  their  brains." 

"  Well !  we  must  go  straight  to  Llangraig  then,  and 
back  to  Cwm  Meivon.  I  have  already  ordered  the  Ty- 
issa  cart  to  await  us  in  case  we  should  require  to  bring 
the  boat." 

"You  have  a  good  business  head,  Tom,"  said  Mi- 
chael. 

"  'Tis  a  terrible  job  and  must  be  got  through,"  was 
Tom's  reply. 

It  was  not  long  before  they  reached  the  little  fish- 
ing-village, and  accompanied  by  two  fishermen  and  the 
Tyissa  cart,  on  which  the  boat  had  been  placed,  re- 
traced their  steps  to  the  lake  in  the  wood.  Llyn  Dys- 
taw  had  never  looked  more  beautiful  than  it  did  on  this 
lovely  spring  day.  A  few  fleecy  white  clouds  flecking 
the  blue  sky;  the  soft  wind  rippling  the  surface  of  the 
water,  and  making  the  daffodils  which  fringed  the 
banks  nod  to  each  other.  A  few  of  the  villagers,  at- 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          233 

tracted  to  the  scene  by  curiosity,  stood  about  on  the 
banks. 

"See  to  it,  Tom,"  Michael  had  said  when  the  little 
boat's  keel  had  grated  on  the  shingle.  "  I  do  believe 
I  am  developing  nerves — I  feel  quite  beaten.  I  think 
I'll  go  back  to  Dr.  Rees's.  Come  and  tell  me  the  re- 
sult, Tom." 

"  Yes,  go !  leave  it  to  me,"  said  the  latter. 

When  Michael  was  about  to  leave,  he  felt  a  burly 
arm  thrust  through  his  own.  "  No — thou'lt  not  go  to 
Dr.  Rees's,"  said  Phil's  kindly  voice.  "  Thou'lt  come 
home  to  thine  own  father,  my  lad,  and  whatever  thy 
troubles  may  be,  we'll  share  them  together  under  the 
old  mill-thatch,"  and  Michael  could  only  grasp  his 
father's  hand  in  silence,  and  in  the  old  mill-kitchen,  as 
of  yore,  they  sat  under  the  broad  chimney,  waiting, 
waiting  for  what  news  Tom  might  bring  them.  At  last 
a  long  wail  from  Peggy  startled  them  both,  and  they 
stared  at  the  open  doorway  until  she  appeared  followed 
by  Tom.  She  was  dangling  on  her  fingers  a  string  of 
blue  beads. 

"  My  little  Essylt's  necklace  that  she  wore  on  her 
beautiful  white  neck ! "  she  cried,  sitting  down  and 
swaying  herself  backwards  and  forwards. 

"  That  is  all,"  said  Tom.  "  There's  nothing  else  in 
Llyn  Dystaw.  They  have  dragged  it  through  and 
through." 

"Thank  God!"  said  Michael,  and  the  simple  words 
expressed  the  deepest  gratitude,  not  only  because  he 
had  been  spared  the  tragic  denouement  which  he  had 
feared,  but  also  that  his  beloved  lake  would  still  be  free 
from  harrowing  associations. 

"  There  is  no  mistaking  that  necklace ! "  he  contin- 
ued. "  I  wonder  how  it  got  there  ?  " 


234  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  Oh !  that's  easy ! "  said  Tom.  "  Most  likely  poor 
Essylt  tired  of  it,  and  threw  it  in — possibly  it  might 
have  slipped  off  her  neck  while  she  stooped  to  gather 
a  daffodil — oh !  a  hundred  ways.  Put  it  away  in  your 
drawer,  Peggy,  and  try  and  learn  the  lesson  of  pa- 
tience. In  His  own  good  time  God  will  make  it  plain. 

"I  have  paid  the  men,  Michael;  the  boat  has  gone 
back  to  Cwm  Meivon,  the  villagers  have  dispersed ; 
everything  is  calm  and  beautiful  out  there.  It  strikes 
me  we  have  only  to  wait  patiently  for  the  elucidation 
of  this  mystery." 

"  Quite  right !     Quite  right ! "  said  Phil. 

"  I  am  very  hungry,  whatever,"  said  Tom,  who  knew 
from  experience  that  the  best  way  to  help  Peggy  was 
to  call  upon  her  for  help. 

"Hungry — Mr.  Tom  bdchf  What  have  I  been 
thinking  about?  'And  you  having  no  food  to-day  per- 
haps!" 

"  No,  indeed !  so  bring  out  the  best  loaf,  Peggy." 

"  That  I  will,  indeed ! "  she  said,  beginning  to  lay 
the  table,  while  Phil,  looking  on,  suggested  all  manner 
of  dainties. 

"  There's  a  pot  of  stewed  sand-eels,  which  Marged 
Tyissa  brought;  and  a  beautiful  cheese  I  brought 
from  Bryndu ;  and  there's  the  new  ham,  just  cut,"  and 
soon  Peggy  spread  upon  the  table  such  a  meal!  such 
a  profusion  of  country  delicacies !  and  a  hearty  meal 
was  partaken  of,  Phil  being  more  like  his  old  genial 
self,  while  Michael's  grave  face  lost  much  of  the  worry 
and  anxiety  that  had  marked  it  since  he  had  returned 
to  Cwm  Meivon  and  to  the  tragic  developments  of  the 
last  few  days. 

Tom  had  disappeared  while  Peggy's  tea  was  draw- 
ing. "I  just  went  to  tell  Barbara  what  had  trans- 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          235 

pired,"  he  said  on  his  return.  "  I  am  glad  I  went. 
Poor  girl !  she's  so  truly  sympathetic,  you  know ! " 

"Ah!  Mr.  Tom  has  his  head  skewed  on  right,"  said 
the  miller.  "You  didn't  think  of  asking  little  miss, 
now,  to  come  in  and  have  tea  with  us  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no ! "  said  Tom.  "  She  has  a  bad  headache, 
and  has  gone  to  lie  down,  and  begs  Peggy  to  bring  her 
a  cup  of  tea  in  an  hour's  time." 

"  That  I  will !  Caton  Pawb,"  said  Peggy,  and  she 
waxed  quite  cheerful  as  she  flitted  from  one  to  the  other 
without  her  shoes,  and  even  recovered  her  cheerfulness 
so  far  as  to  give  a  very  graphic  account  of  the  funeral 
which  had  taken  place  the  day  before.  "  Crepe  and 
silk  on  every  hat,  and  black  kid  gloves  for  everyone 
that  wanted  them.  Some  more  sand-eels,  machgen-i? 
You  were  always  fond  of  them." 

After  tea  they  drew  round  the  fire  and  smoked,  and 
Phil,  who  had  avoided  Essylt's  name  for  so  long, 
seemed  to  give  rein  to  his  son,  who  suggested  all  sorts 
of  explanations,  but  when,  after  a  long  evening  had 
been  spent  together  in  the  old  confidential  communion, 
Michael  at  last  rose  to  return  to  Maentrevor,  Phil, 
standing  at  the  door  looking  after  him,  breathed  a  ferv- 
ent prayer  ere  he  turned  back  to  the  kitchen.  "  God 
forgive  me  for  being  so  glad ! " 


CHAPTER    XVI 

THE  interest  caused  by  the  mysterious  disappearance 
of  Essylt  Lewis  was  not  of  long  duration.  It  made 
a  little  ripple  on  the  still  lake  of  rustic  life,  but  the  cir- 
cles grew  wider  and  less  marked,  and  were  soon  lost 
in  the  glassy  surface  of  the  smooth  waters ;  and  the 
incident,  though  it  had  at  first  caused  an  unusual  sen- 
sation, was  soon  forgotten  in  the  magnitude  and  im- 
portance of  the  small  events  of  a  country  neighbour- 
hood. 

There  was  no  one  to  mourn  much  for  the  poor  girl, 
for  Peggy's  grief  was  shallow  as  it  was  noisy,  and 
though  it  burst  out  afresh  upon  hearing  the  tidings 
that  an  old  grey  shawl  and  a  shoe  had  been  found  on 
the  shore  at  Llangraig,  yet  the  assurance  that  this 
seemed  to  bring  assuaged  her  grief  considerably.  Any- 
thing was  better  than  the  uncertainty  which  had  hith- 
erto shrouded  the  girl's  fate. 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt  about  this  shawl,"  said  Mi- 
chael, as  Peggy  held  it  up  for  them  to  see. 

"  None,"  said  Tom ;  "  for  here  is  the  shred  that  hung 
on  the  bushes.  I  have  kept  it  in  my  waistcoat  pocket 
ever  since,  and  see !  it  fits  in  the  rent  exactly ! " 

"  That  is  conclusive,"  said  Michael. 

"  Oh !  give  it  to  me,"  said  Peggy,  "  and  I'll  darn  it 
in,"  and,  pleased  with  this  tangible  bit  of  work  which 
she  could  do  for  "her  darling  child,"  she  trotted  away 
to  her  cottage,  forgetting  to  ask  where  the  piece  was 
found. 

As    she    disappeared    Michael    shuddered.      "Poor 

236 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          237 

child,"  he  said,  "  that  was  a  gruesome  walk  for  her, 
Tom,  along  the  Llangralg  shore  alone  in  the  dark, 
and  then  to  the  cliffs  with  that  desperate  purpose  in 
her  mind  all  the  time." 

"  Yes !  but  it  will  take  more  than  a  shawl  or  a  shoe 
to  make  me  believe  she  did  it,"  said  Tom. 

There  was  no  one  in  the  whole  community  to  whom 
Essylt  had  endeared  herself.  As  for  Michael  Lloyd, 
it  was  very  evident  that  the  strange  event  had  caused 
him  much  disturbance  of  spirit,  for  his  face  bore  traces 
of  deep  anxiety  and  trouble,  and  it  would  have  been 
unnatural  and  inhuman  had  it  been  otherwise,  for  the 
woman  who  had  disappeared  so  suddenly  from  their 
midst  would  ere  this  have  been  his  wife  had  she  lived; 
besides  this,  his  heart  had  been  filled  with  strong  pity 
for  the  restlessness  and  discontent  which  seemed  to 
have  poisoned  her  life. 

For  many  years  it  had  been  pity  alone  that  he  had 
felt  for  Essylt,  and  he  had  forced  himself  to  be  content 
with  this  poor  substitute  for  the  love  which,  in  another 
direction,  would  have  grown  to  such  a  vigorous  plant 
that  it  would  have  filled  his  soul  with  happiness.  For 
long  years,  therefore,  the  name  of  "  Essylt "  had  been 
synonymous  in  his  mind  with  repression,  self-sacrifice, 
and  thwarted  desires.  Was  it  any  wonder,  therefore, 
that  as  the  days  went  on,  and  the  simple  events  of  vil- 
lage life  ran  into  their  accustomed  grooves,  that  he 
rejoiced,  though  with  fear  and  trembling,  in  his  re- 
stored freedom?  For  the  lake  still  glittered  in  the  sun- 
shine and  slept  under  the  starlight,  the  daffodils  still 
nodded  in  the  breeze,  the  thrushes  still  sang  in  the 
brake,  while  life  held  out  to  him  its  treasures  of  hope 
and  happiness.  Was  it  to  be  wondered  at,  then,  if  as 
May's  flowers  grew  more  abundant,  and  the  whole 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 

world  seemed  to  answer  to  the  call  of  the  spring,  that 
the  lines  in  Michael's  face  grew  less  pronounced,  that 
his  voice  regained  its  old  ring  of  cheer  and  content, 
more  especially  when  he  came  in  at  the  mill-door  in  the 
evenings  to  sit  with  his  father  on  the  old  hearth,  to 
smoke  the  pipe  of  peace  and  content,  to  send  up  the 
rings  of  blue  smoke  through  the  broad  wattled  chimney, 
where  the  hams  and  flitches  of  bacon  hung  like  brown 
mummies  above  their  heads,  and  his  steps  turned  once 
more  quite  naturally  to  the  west  porch,  and  scarcely 
an  evening  passed  without  some  portion  of  it  having 
been  spent  in  the  companionship  of  Tom  and  his  sister. 
She  and  Michael  both  seemed  to  have  buried  the 
memory  of  the  hours  when  their  friendship  had  strained 
its  bonds  and  threatened  to  overflow  its  banks  into  a 
river  of  love!  All  this  they  appeared  to  forget,  but 
each  one  knew  that  in  the  other's  heart,  low  down  be- 
neath the  surface,  was  running  a  full  bright  stream  of 
something  warmer,  stronger,  deeper,  than  this  outward 
intercourse  of  daily  life.  They  had  both,  as  if  by  one 
accord  too,  dropped  the  habit  that  had  grown  upon 
them  of  addressing  each  other  by  their  Christian 
names,  and  "  Dr.  Lloyd  "  seemed  to  come  quite  easily 
to  Barbara's  lips,  but  it  must  be  confessed  that  to  Mi- 
chael nothing  more  formal  than  "  Miss  Barbara  "  was 
possible.  However,  they  had  both  got  over  the  first 
awkwardness,  and  now  there  was  nothing  in  their  pleas- 
ant intercourse  to  remind  them  that  they  had  been  on 
the  verge  of  stepping  from  the  broad,  high  road  of  or- 
dinary life  to  the  sweet  bypaths  of  love.  All  the  vigor- 
ous and  generous  attributes  pertaining  to  the  tempera- 
ment of  a  noble  man,  which  had  been  somewhat  crushed 
and  thwarted  by  his  late  experience,  took  their  place 
once  more  in  Michael's  nature.  The  very  buoyancy 


UNDER     THE    THATCH          239 

of  his  step  indicated  a  happy  life  and  freedom  from 
care. 

Barbara,  on  the  contrary,  seemed  to  have  developed 
a  variableness  which  such  a  close  observer  of  her  every 
mood  as  Michael  Lloyd  could  not  fail  to  detect.  There 
were  moments  when,  even  in  the  abandonment  of  a 
hearty  laugh,  when  her  lips  were  wreathed  in  smiles, 
and  her  brown  eyes  were  humid  with  merriment,  a  sud- 
den change  would  come  over  her  face  like  the  shadow 
of  a  cloud  on  a  sunny  landscape. 

"What,"  he  wondered,  "was  the  cause  of  this  sud- 
den darkening  of  the  sunshine?" 

He  considered  his  words,  his  actions,  and  found  in 
them  no  explanation  of  this  strange  phenomenon,  and 
he  could  only  attribute  it  to  the  extreme  sensitiveness 
of  the  girl's  nature,  and  he  made  up  his  mind  to  be  still 
more  guarded  over  his  own  words,  lest  he  might  in  any 
way  unintentionally  bruise  the  tender  flower  of  love 
which  he  believed  had  grown  in  Barbara's  heart. 

One  evening,  while  Tom  sat  at  the  piano  and  Bar- 
bara and  Michael  stood  behind  him,  their  voices  blend- 
ing in  the  harmony  of  some  of  the  duets  or  trios  which 
they  loved  so  much,  both  turned  to  the  table,  where  was 
spread  in  confusion  the  music  from  which  they  sang. 
Both  sought  together  amongst  the  loose  sheets,  when 
they  suddenly  came  upon  a  well-remembered  trio,  "  Oh, 
Memory.'*  With  one  accord  they  ignored  it,  and  in 
laying  it  aside  Barbara's  fingers  touched  Michael's 
for  a  moment,  and  he  covered  the  little  busy  hand  with 
his  own  broad  palm,  and  held  it  while  he  spoke  into  her 
eyes  the  tender  feelings  which  that  song  and  their  mu- 
tual avoidance  of  it  roused  in  his  heart.  A  deep  blush 
overspread  her  face;  but  even  while  Michael  looked, 
gazing  at  it  with  rapture,  it  faded  away,  as  the  red 


.240  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

light  fades  when  the  sun  dips  down  behind  the  sea,  a 
veiled  look  came  over  the  eyes,  a  curve  of  reserve  on 
the  lips ;  but  it  was  only  momentary,  and  the  shadows 
passed  as  quickly  as  the  glow  had  faded. 

She  continued  to  sort  the  music  hurriedly. 

"  Oh,  here's  *  Rise,  Cynthia,  rise ! '  We  haven't  sung 
that  for  a  long  time.  Shall  we  try  it?"  She  arranged 
it  before  Tom,  and  their  voices  blended  in  the  sweet, 
simple  old  melody. 

"  I  have  always  thought,"  said  Michael,  "  that  in 
some  such  simple  strain  as  this  a  musician  might  hope 
to  discover  the  secret  of  the  power  of  music." 

"  'Tis  only  the  harmony,"  said  Tom. 

"  It  is  not  so,  indeed,"  said  Michael.  "  Sing  it  in 
unison,  and  you  will  find  the  same  charm  in  it,  inde- 
scribably illusive,  it  is  true,  but  'tis  there,  Tom — the 
secret,  I  mean,  the  secret  why  one  arrangement  of  mu- 
sical notes  should  appeal  to  our  souls  when  another 
should  have  nothing  to  say  to  us." 

"  I  still  hold  it  is  the  harmonies  that  it  suggests," 
said  Tom.  "What  do  you  say,  Barbara?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered  dreamily ;  "  but  I  al- 
ways feel  as  if  the  secret  of  music  lies  in  the  sugges- 
tion of  something  even  higher  and  finer  than  harmony 
! — something  that  our  natures,  as  they  are  at  present, 
cannot  comprehend  but  only  feel." 

"  Well !  we  are  straying  away  from  poor  old  '  Cyn- 
thia,' "  said  Tom.  "  Shall  we  have  her  again,  Bar- 
bara, with  Michael's  ideas  as  a  halo,  mind?" 

They  sang  the  old  air  again,  with  many  others  to 
follow,  till  at  last  Peggy  came  in  with  a  reproachful 
look. 

"  Little  children,  d'you  know  how  late  it  is  ?  I  want 
to  shut  the  mill-door," 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  I'm  sleeping  there  to-night,"  said  Michael.  "  I 
ought  to  have  remembered  that  I  was  keeping  my 
father  up."  And  reluctantly  the  music  was  gathered 
together,  and  laid  aside  for  another  occasion. 

"  Are  you  going  to  be  busy  to-day  ?  "  Michael  called 
out  next  day  from  the  porch,  from  which  he  caught 
sight  of  Barbara,  a  duster  in  her  hand,  and  wearing 
a  large  white  apron. 

"  As  you  see,"  she  said,  smilingly ;  "  spring-cleaning, 
or,  rather,  a  summer-cleaning." 

"  Will  it  last  all-day  ?  "  he  said,  looking  admiringly 
at  the  tousled  brown  hair  and  the  flushed  cheeks. 

"  Oh,  yes,  and  to-morrow  too,"  said  Barbara ;  "  in 
fact,  I'm  thoroughly  enjoying  myself — hard  work  all 
day,  which  I  like,  and  tea  in  the  kitchen  with  Peggy 
in  the  evening." 

"  Then  I  must  defer  the  proposition  I  was  about  to 
make  until  some  other  time?  " 

"Well,  what  is  it?" 

"That  you  should  come  with  me  to  the  Tyissa 
fields.  I  have  something  to  show  you  there;  then  I 
thought  we  might  have  tea  at  the  farm." 

"  I  know  what  you  have  to  show  me,"  said  Barbara ; 
"  cowslips !  Indeed,  I  cannot  resist  them,  and  a  Ty- 
issa tea  to  finish  up  with.  Oh,  yes,  I'll  come,  certainly. 
I'll  get  on  as  fast  as  I  can  with  the  cleaning  in  the 
morning,  and  then  we  can  go  to  Tyissa  in  the  after- 
noon— while  the  dust  is  settling,  you  know." 

"  I  don't  know  exactly  what  that  means,  but  it 
sounds  like  a  splendid  arrangement!  Can  I  help  you 
in  the  morning?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed !  indeed ! "  said  Barbara.  "  You'd 
be  horribly  in  the  way." 

"  May  I  come  to  fetch  you  at  three  o'clock,  then  ?  " 


UNDER    THE     THATCH 

"  Yes !  that  will  do  splendidly,"  she  said.  "  I  shall 
be  ready." 

When  Michael  had  withdrawn  from  the  porch  she 
went  on  with  her  work,  singing  as  she  went,  "  Rise, 
Cynthia,  rise,"  and  her  brush  reached  every  corner  of 
the  old  beamed  room. 

"  The  ruddy  morn  on  tip  toe  stands," 

and  she  ran  up  a  long  row  of  steps  to  take  down  a 
picture. 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  above  conversation  upon 
what  intimate  terms  of  friendship  Michael  and  Bar- 
bara stood.  Indeed,  springtime  seemed  to  be  blossom- 
ing in  their  lives,  and  the  slight  restraint  which  Bar- 
bara's sudden  little  clouds  of  reticence  sometimes  threw 
over  them,  in  reality  only  enhanced  the  happiness  of 
their  frequent  seasons  of  close  companionship. 

At  three  o'clock  Barbara  was  ready,  tying  on  her 
hat  when  Michael  arrived. 

"  Ready?  "  he  asked. 

"  Let  me  go  and  ask  Peggy  to  lend  me  a  basket ; 
we  must  gather  some,  or  else  'twill  be  no  fun." 

"  Of  course ! "  said  Michael,  holding  the  big  porch 
door  open  for  her,  and  as  they  crossed  the  green  to- 
gether Phil  at  the  mill-door  looked  after  them  with  a 
serene  expression  on  his  face. 

They  walked  across  the  green  towards  the  road 
which  led  past  Caefran,  and  on  to  Tyissa,  and  began 
the  steep  ascent,  Phil  still  watching  them  with  extreme 
satisfaction ;  and  when  at  last  the  turn  in  the  road  hid 
them  from  his  sight,  he  winked  mysteriously,  and 
slapped  his  leg  vigorously. 

"  Well,  there,"  he  said,  turning  back  from  the  door- 
way, "  what  d'you  say  to  that,  eh?  Isn't  that  a  pretty 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          243 

sight,  eh  ? "  But  his  voice  was  lost  in  the  sound  of 
the  grinding,  which  was  just  as  well,  perhaps,  as  he 
returned  to  his  work. 

As  they  passed  the  Caefran  gates  Michael  looked 
anxiously  at  Barbara's  face,  fearing  lest  the  sight  of 
the  moss-grown  avenue  might  awake  sad  memories  in 
her  heart ;  but  she  seemed  to  have  cast  from  her  every 
thought  of  sadness,  and  to  have  returned  to  the  days 
of  childhood.  Michael  appeared,  too,  to  have  learnt 
to  be  a  child  again. 

"  This  was  always  the  road  Tom  and  I  came  up  to 
look  for  cowslips,"  said  Barbara,  "  and  for  mushrooms 
after  the  hay  harvest.  Oh,  there's  the  gate ! " 

"  But  wait  till  I  run  to  Tyissa  and  order  tea,"  said 
Michael.  "  I  want  to  share  the  first  view  of  the  field 
with  you." 

When  he  returned  they  entered  the  field  together. 

"There!"  said  Michael. 

"  Oh,"  said  Barbara,  "  I  never,  never,  never  saw 
such  a  glorious  sight !  Oh,  Dr.  Lloyd !  " 

"  'Tis  a  sea  of  gold  and  purple ! "  said  Michael. 
"  I  don't  think  the  wild  orchids  have  been  so  fine  for 
years." 

"Oh,  let  me  gather  some,"  and  almost  with  the 
happy  zest  of  childhood  Barbara  stooped  to  the  clumps 
of  gold. 

When  they  had  gathered  the  best  in  one  field  they 
passed  through  the  gap  into  another,  and  then  into 
another.  The  basket  was  full,  they  no  longer  stooped 
to  gather  the  pendulous  flowers,  their  walk  changed 
into  a  slow  saunter,  their  talk  was  low,  and,  we  are 
bound  to  confess,  uninteresting  to  anyone  but  them- 
selves. There  were  long  pauses  of  silence,  but  the  si- 
lence was  eloquent  of  unspoken  love. 


244  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  There's  a  beautiful  sycamore  tree,  surely  planted 
and  grown  for  our  benefit,  said  Barbara.  "  See  what 
a  lovely  shadow  it  throws  on  the  grass ! " 

"  Let  us  sit  and  rest  here !  " 

"  Yes,  and  make  cowslip  balls !  Come ! "  she  said. 
"  Men  always  have  a  bit  of  string  in  their  pockets," 
and  Michael  laughingly  searched  until  he  had  found 
a  piece  of  the  required  length ;  then  he  held  it  straight 
and  tight,  and  watched  with  amusement  while  Barbara 
strung  the  flowers  upon  it  with  a  face  as  full  of  in- 
terest as  that  of  a  child. 

"  Now,  another  for  you !  Such  a  lovely  cowslip  day 
would  not  be  complete  without  a  '  tisty  tosty ' — for 
me,  I  mean ;  of  course,  we  don't  expect  the  learned 
Dr.  Lloyd  to  be  so  childish ! " 

"  Oh,  wait  and  see ! "  said  Michael.  "  Throw  me 
the  ball,  and  see  if  I  don't  live  as  long  as  you  do,"  and 
in  a  few  moments  they  were  tossing  up  the  golden 
balls  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  senseless  words  al- 
ways used  by  Welsh  children,  possibly  others,  at  this 
game. 

"  Tisty  tosty,  four  and  forty,  how  many  years  shall 
I  live?  "  and  Michael  had  already  tossed  and  caught 
his  a  hundred  and  twenty  times. 

"  You'll  be  as  old  as  Methuselah ! "  laughed  Bar- 
bara, as  they  both  sat  down  exhausted ;  "  but,  oh,  Dr. 
Lloyd,  what  has  become  of  my  spring-cleaning?  " 

"  Oh,  never  mind  it,"  said  Michael ;  "  but,  Barbara," 
he  added,  grasping  her  hand  and  holding  it  tightly 
in  his  own,  "how  long  is  this  ridiculous  formality  to 
last?  I  am  going  to  rebel  and  drop  that  hideous 
'  Miss  '  before  your  name,  and  do  you  drop  that  odious 
*  Dr.  Lloyd ' ;  there  is  no  sense  in  it.  You  know  that 
in  the  nature  of  things  we  are  Michael  and  Barbara 
to  each  other,  so  what  is  the  good  of  pretending  other- 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          245 

wise.  Now,  Barbara,  answer  me!"  But  looking  into 
her  face  he  saw  that  sudden  change  which  he  dreaded 
come  over  it,  the  eyes  were  veiled,  the  sweet  mouth  was 
serious,  and  he  saw  that  some  real  trouble  clutched  at 
her  heart ;  but  he  still  held  her  hand  tightly  clasped. 

"  What  is  it,  Barbara  ?  "  he  said.  "  What  makes 
you  look  like  that,  as  if  some  terrible  shadow  had  fallen 
over  you?  What  is  it,  dear?  Tell  me,  and  let  me  see 
if  I  cannot  banish  it." 

"  Oh,  no ! "  she  said.  "  Indeed,  nothing — nothing 
is  the  matter  with  me." 

She  struggled  a  little  to  free  her  hand,  and  seeing 
that  she  really  desired  it,  he  loosened  his  grasp,  and 
gently  laid  it  down  amongst  the  cowslips  on  her  lap. 

"  Has  my  rebellion  offended  you?  Shall  I  return 
to  'Miss  Barbara'  again?" 

"  Oh,  no !  no !  "  said  Barbara.  "  What  can  it  matter 
what  you  call  me,  or  what  I  call  you?  That  can  never 
make  any  difference."  And  the  fair  face  that  had 
paled  a  little  had  now  become  rosy  to  the  roots  of  her 
hair. 

"  Come ! "  she  said,  rising  suddenly.  "  We  have  for- 
gotten everything  in  these  golden  delights.  What  time 
can  it  be?  " 

"Four  o'clock,"  said  Michael,  looking  at  his  watch; 
"  just  right  for  tea  at  Tyissa;  but  how  the  time  has 
slipped  by!  I  didn't  think  we'd  been  here  more  than 
an  hour.  Little  Jane  will  have  worn  out  her  '  clocs  '* 
with  running  about  in  her  preparations  if  we  don't  go 
now,"  and  they  began  their  way  back  from  the  sunny 
fields. 

For  some  time  they  walked  in  silence,  a  little  awk- 
wardness had  fallen  over  them. 

*  Wooden  shoes. 


246  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  I  wish  I  could  feel  quite  certain  that  you  are  not 
vexed  with  my  rebellion  against  the  *  Miss.' ' 

"  Indeed,  you  may  be  quite  content  of  that,"  said 
Barbara.  "  '  Dr.  Lloyd '  comes  quite  easily  to  me,  for 
I  hear  you  called  so  by  all  the  country  people.  It 
seems  to  be  quite  natural ;  you  see,  we  are  all  quite  old 
acquaintances ! " 

"  Well,  yes !  old  friends,  rather  I  so  what  can  it  mat- 
ter by  what  names  we  call  each  other!  I  think,  be- 
tween you  and  me,  there  need  never  be  misunderstand- 
ings about  trifles.  H'm,  h'm,  h'm,"  said  Michael, 
"  that  sounds  very  well ;  but,  Barbara,  that  is  sophis- 
try, and  I  like  plain  talk,  you  see.  God  knows  I  have 
had  enough  mystery.  I  will  say  no  more  now,"  he 
added,  as  he  saw  the  delicate  brows  contract  and  the 
eyes  fill  with  tears. 

"  God  forbid,  dear,  that  I  should  ever  do  anything 
to  grieve  you.  If  I  have,  it  has  been  unintentional," 
and  he  held  out  his  brown  palm,  into  which  Barbara 
placed  her  own. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know." 

"Am  I  quite  forgiven,  little  Barbara?  "  he  said,  still 
holding  her  hand,  and  trying  to  look  into  her  eyes, 
which,  however,  were  hidden  under  their  drooping  eye- 
lids. 

Suddenly  she  looked  up  at  him  with  all  her  usual 
joyousness  restored  to  her  frank  brown  eyes,  and  Mi- 
chael noted  all  the  returning  charms.  The  merry 
sparkle  in  the  eye,  the  two  pretty  dimples  on  the  cheek, 
and  the  ravishing  smile  which  always  drove  his  wisest 
resolutions  away. 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed,"  she  said,  "  'tis  all  right — every- 
thing's all  right — except,  perhaps,  the  tea  at  Tyissa; 
for  if  the  tea  is  cold  and  the  toast  is  spoilt,  'twill  be 
our  own  fault,  unless  we  hurry  a  little." 


UNDER    THE    THATCH         247 

"  Yes !  we  must.  Shall  I  carry  your  cowslips  for 
you?" 

"  Oh,  no !  not  for  the  world,"  said  Barbara ;  "  it 
wouldn't  be  cowslip-gathering  if  I  didn't  carry  them 
home." 

When  they  reached  Tyissa  there  were  evident  signs, 
even  in  the  farmyard,  that  company  was  expected. 
The  little  pools  of  water  that  had  collected  here  and 
there  in  the  depressions  of  the  rocky  ground  had  been 
swept  away  with  a  hard  broom,  to  the  disappointment 
of  the  ducks,  who  had  been  accustomed  to  waddle 
through  them  on  their  way  to  the  big  horse-pond  at 
the  further  end  of  the  yard.  The  stray  straws  had 
been  brushed  away,  too;  the  pigs  were  shut  into  their 
styes ;  everything  looked  clean,  and  tidy,  and  unnat- 
ural, for  the  Tyissa  people  were  not  of  the  most  or- 
derly, and  at  the  sound  of  a  closing  gate  there  arose  a 
great  clattering  of  tongues  and  wooden  shoes  inside 
the  house. 

"  Here  they  come,"  said  Mrs.  Jones  in  an  excited 
whisper,  "  just  as  the  light-cakes  were  turned,"  and 
she  slipped  the  last  frail  delicacy  on  the  pile,  buttered 
and  simmering  before  the  fire.  She  pointed  to  little 
Jane's  "  clocs,"  and  the  child  instantly  slipped  them 
off,  and  substituted  for  them  a  well-polished  pair  of 
Sunday-go-to-meeting  shoes  tied  with  black  bows,  while 
her  mother  turned  to  the  door  to  welcome  her  guests, 
smoothing  down  her  apron,  and  wiping  her  face  with 
the  corner  thereof. 

"Well,  dir  anwl!  Dr.  Lloyd,  sir,  and  Miss  Owen; 
there's  glad  I  am  to  see  you !  Come  in,  come  in !  Jane, 
place  two  chairs  this  minute,  and  dust  them,  child. 
Haven't  I  told  you  a  hundred  times  ?  " 

"  Dear  me,  Mrs.  Jones,"  said  Barbara,  "  you  need 
not  dust  anything.  It  always  looks  spick  and  span 


248  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

and  shining  here,"  but  little  Jane  had  already  dusted 
the  two  clumsy  oak  chairs  with  her  new  pink  pinafore, 
evidently  made  out  of  the  same  piece  as  her  mother's 
apron. 

"Well,  Jane,  how  is  the  throat  now?"  said  Dr. 
Lloyd;  "quite  well?  That's  right." 

"And  how  is  your  father,  sir?"  said  Mrs.  Jones. 
"  I  suppose  he's  getting  older,  like  the  most  of 
us?" 

"  Not  he !  "  laughed  Michael.  "  He's  as  young  as 
ever." 

"  Oh ! "  said  Mrs.  Jones,  laying  her  hand  familiarly 
on  his  shoulder  as  she  passed  behind  him  to  fetch  the 
tea  and  the  light-cakes.  "  No  doubt  'tis  having  you 
at  home  with  him  again,  quite  well  and  happy !  because 
we  have  all  heard,  sir,  that  you  have  been  in  a  nasty 
bit  of  trouble  lately !  Well !  '  all's  well  that  ends  well ! » 
and  I  hope  you'll  enjoy  your  tea  and  light-cakes  now, 
Dr.  Lloyd  and  Miss  Owen,"  and  she  gabbled  away  so 
unceasingly  that  Michael  was  saved  the  trouble  of  an- 
swering her  awkward  remarks. 

"  What  light-cakes  !  "  said  Barbara,  endeavouring 
to  change  the  current  of  the  good  woman's  thoughts. 
"  I  thought  Peggy  was  a  good  hand  at  making  light- 
cakes,  but  yours  are  thinner  and  lighter,  certainly." 

"  Oh,  Peggy  Jerry's  light-cakes  are  very  well,  but 
they  are  not  made  like  mine,  Miss  vacli.  I  mix  them 
with  cream,  and  put  a  little  brandy  in  them." 

"Oh,  dear!  then  we  must  be  careful  how  many  we 
eat  of  them." 

"I'm  not  going  to  count,  however,"  said  Michael, 
sticking  his  fork  into  two  or  three  at  once. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Jones,  in  a  musing  tone, 
and  a  propos  of  nothing.  She  looked  from  one  to  the 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          24,9 

other  of  her  two  guests  and  repeated,  "Yes,  indeed," 
in  the  same  absent  manner. 

Michael,  with  his  intimate  knowledge  of  the  Welsh 
peasant  woman,  knew  the  symptoms  well,  and  became 
alarmed  at  what  she  might  say  next,  and  held  up  his 
finger  and  frowned  surreptitiously  while  Barbara  was 
examining  a  print  of  the  cow  on  the  golden  butter. 

Mrs.  Jones  was  devotedly  attached  to  Dr.  Lloyd,  and 
would  have  died  rather  than  have  said  another  word, 
but  she  had  already  blurted  out,  "  There's  nice  you 
two  do  look  together;  in  my  deed,  you  ought  always 
to  be."  Here  she  caught  sight  of  Michael's  forbid- 
ding finger.  "  Dir  anwl!  there's  low  those  swallows 
are  flying  this  evening;  dir  anwl!  they'll  fly  in  at  the 
window  soon ;  they  are  building  in  a  row,  under  the 
thatch,  Miss  vdch." 

"  I  must  go  and  see  them,"  said  Barbara.  "  Come, 
little  Jane,  show  me  the  nests."  She  had  blushed  all 
over  her  face,  and  had  wondered  what  lucky  chance 
had  diverted  Mrs.  Jones's  attention  from  Michael  and 
herself. 

"  Begging  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Jones,  when 
left  alone  in  the  kitchen  with  Michael,  "  for  saying 
what  I  did.  I  wouldn't  for  the  world,  if  I  thought 
you  wouldn't  like  it!  Caton  pawb!  what  business  have 
I  with  the  affairs  of  leddies  and  gentriss — but  there — 
never  again,  sir,"  and  she  nudged  him  and  winked. 
"  'Twould  frighten  little  miss,  like  a  bird  from  a 
branch;  yes — yes,  I  see." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  see,  Mrs.  Jones,"  said  Mi- 
chael. 

"No,  no,  not  more  than  I  do  see;  but  look  you 
here,  sir,"  she  said,  with  another  nudge,  "  don't  be 
afraid  to  ask  her " 


250  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"Look  here,  Mrs.  Jones,"  said  Michael  seriously, 
"  we  have  been  good  friends  since  I  was  a  boy,  you 
and  I,  but  if  I  hear  you  allude  to  this  subject  again, 
you  will  offend  me." 

Meanwhile  Barbara  and  Jane  were  standing  at  a 
little  distance  from  the  house,  looking  up  at  the  swal- 
lows darting  in  and  out  of  their  nests  under  the  broad 
eaves. 

"  I  suppose  we  must  go,"  said  Michael,  as  he  ap- 
peared in  the  doorway,  followed  by  Mrs.  Jones. 

"  I  suppose  we  must,  indeed,"  said  Barbara.  "  I 
have  enjoyed  it  all  so  much,  your  lovely  tea  and  light- 
cakes,  Mrs.  Jones,  the  cowslips,  the  swallows,  and,  oh, 
everything  has  been  delightful !  Good-bye !  It  will  be 
your  turn  next  to  come  and  have  tea  with  me  at  the 
West  Mill." 

"  Oh,  anwl!  Miss  vdch,  I  am  not  used  to  having  tea 
with  leddies,"  said  Mrs.  Jones,  wiping  her  face  with 
her  apron,  for  the  afternoon  was  warm.  "  Perhaps  if 
Dr.  Lloyd  was  there  I  wouldn't  be  ashamed." 

"  Oh,  I'll  keep  you  in  countenance,  if  Miss  Owen 
will  ask  me,"  said  Michael. 

As  they  went  out  of  the  gate  they  met  Shinkin,  the 
good  man  of  the  house,  who  had  kept  studiously  away 
until  he  thought  his  wife's  guests  would  have  finished 
their  meal,  when  he  would  go  in  himself,  and  feel  free 
to  pour  his  tea  into  his  saucer,  to  drink  it  with  long- 
drawn  sups,  and  with  an  elbow  each  side  of  his  plate 
on  the  table,  make  small  work  of  a  pile  of  light-cakes 
which  his  wife  had  kept  hot  for  him  in  the  oven. 

The  sun  was  setting  down  beyond  the  furzy  knoll, 
with  its  familiar  clump  of  fir  trees,  as  Barbara  and 
Michael  came  in  sight  of  the  peaceful  valley  to  which 
they  were  about  to  descend.  It  was  flooded  by  a  soft 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          251 

sunset  haze;  a  streak  of  golden  between  the  trees 
showed  where  Llyn  Dystaw  lay  smooth  and  calm  in  the 
nearer  foreground,  the  fields  and  banks  were  of  an  em- 
erald-green ;  here  and  there  a  hawthorn  tree  stood  up, 
white  and  bountiful;  sheep-bells  tinkled  from  the  grey 
wolds  in  the  Cwm  Meivon  woods ;  the  cuckoo  sang  her 
soft  refrain,  and  there  in  its  setting  of  dark  woods  and 
golden  fields,  its  mossy  gables  marked  out  by  the  sun- 
set shadows,  stood  the  old  mill,  its  glittering  vane  over 
all. 

Barbara  sighed  with  pleasure.  "  How  lovely  it  is !  " 
she  said.  "  Oh,  Dr.  Lloyd,  I  shall  never  cease  to  thank 
you  for  finding  this  happy  home  for  us." 

"  The  old  brown  roof,  the  clapping  mill,  the  old 
miller  at  the  door.  Do  you  love  it  as  I  do,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Barbara.  "  I  have  never  been 
6O  happy  as  I  have  been  under  the  thatch." 


CHAPTER   XVII 

ONE  day  in  the  following  week  Michael  Lloyd  might 
be  seen  making  his  way  through  the  crowded  market- 
place at  Maentrevor  jostling  against  a  friend  or  pa- 
tient at  every  step.  He  looked  bright  and  alert  as  he 
turned  into  Tom's  office.  They  were  making  arrange- 
ments for  a  little  fishing  expedition  next  day. 

"  To-day  is  too  brilliant,  I  fancy,"  said  Michael ; 
"we  shall  have  a  shower  to-night.  To-morrow  the 
water  would  be  perfect,"  and  opening  a  large  kind  of 
pocket-book  they  pored  over  the  contents  with  as  much 
interest  as  if  they  had  been  given  five-pound  notes  in- 
stead of  the  most  villainous-looking  barbed  hooks.  Sud- 
denly they  were  interrupted  by  Sam's  croaky  voice. 

"  Iss  a  woman  in  the  surgery  waiting,  sir,"  he  said ; 
"  she  ask  particular  for  Dr.  Rees,  and  I  told  her  he 
was  not  at  home." 

"All  right!"  said  Michael,  "I'll  come,"  and  in  a 
few  moments  he  had  hung  up  his  hat  in  the  passage 
and  entered  the  surgery,  where  a  very  chubby-cheeked 
market-woman  was  seated,  an  empty  basket  on  her 
arm.  She  rose  and  curtseyed  as  Michael  entered,  and 
he  looked  at  her  rather  curiously,  with  a  feeling  that 
he  had  seen  her  before.  Surely  he  had  seen  those  red- 
apple  cheeks,  and  those  bright  black  eyes,  but  he  could 
not  recall  her  identity. 

"You  have  finished  your  marketing  early,"  he  said 
in  that  genial  friendly  tone  that  took  so  much  with  the 
country  people.  "  We  don't  generally  see  patients 
till  twelve  on  market  days." 

"No,  sir,  but  this  is  how  it  is,  you  see;  I  am  in  a 

252 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          253 

great  hurry  to  get  home  to-day,  so  I  was  determined 
to  empty  my  basket  even  if  I  gave  the  things  at  half- 
price,  but  indeed  got  my  own  price  for  them,  four  shil- 
lings for  my  fowls,  two  shillings  for  my  eggs." 

"Well,  what  can  I  do  for  you?"  said  the  doctor. 
"  You  don't  look  as  if  there  were  anything  much  the 
matter  with  you." 

"  Nothing  at  all,  sir,  thank  the  Lord ;  nothing  at 
all's  the  matter  with  me!  I  don't  want  no  doctoring, 
and  if  I  did  I  got  a  doctor  in  my  own  home." 

"  Indeed ! "  said  Michael ;  "  and  who  is  he,  and  why 
do  you  come  to  me,  then?  " 

"Well,  sir!  'tis  like  this,  you  see;  he  is  a  herbalist, 
and  he  is  making  his  medicines  from  the  plants  and 
herbs  that  grow  in  the  fields,  and  dir  anwl!  there's 
scarcely  anything  he  can't  cure,  but  of  course  there 
are  some  cases  that  can't  be  cured ! " 

"  Well ! "  said  Michael  impatiently,  shifting  his  po- 
sition. 

"Well,  sir,  there's  a  poor  woman  dying  in  our 
house.  My  father  has  been  tending  her  for  many 
months,  and  he  would  have  cured  her  long  before  this 
if  she  had  been  like  other  women,  but  she  was  so  wild, 
sir,  and  so  fierce,  she  would  never  do  what  she  was  told, 
and  she  did  everything  she  ought  not  to  do." 

"Stop!  stop!  What  is  the  matter  with  her?"  said 
Michael.  "  What  was  her  illness  ?  " 

The  woman  lowered  her  voice  a  little  as  she  answered. 

"  Cancer  of  the  breast,  sir." 

"  Ts !  ts !  ts !  Poor  thing,"  said  Michael.  "  Why 
didn't  she  come  to  us  sooner?  " 

"  Could  you  have  cured  her  ?  "  said  the  woman. 

"  Cured  her  ?  No ;  but  we  might  have  done  some- 
thing for  her." 


254  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

"  My  father  has  cured  many,  and  Essylt  Lewis  could 
not  have  done  better  than  to  come  to  him." 

"  Essylt  Lewis !  "  exclaimed  Michael.  "  My  God ! 
is  she  alive  still,  and  suffering  all  this  time  ? "  He 
turned  deathly  pale  and  felt  as  if  the  small  surgery 
was  suffocating  him. 

'*  Dir  anwl!  I  am  sorry,  sir,"  said  the  woman.  "  In- 
deed, it  was  Dr.  Rees  I  wanted  to  see,  because  I  remem- 
ber you  came  to  ask  about  poor  Essylt!  I  thought, 
perhaps,  you  would  be  feeling  it  more  than  Dr. 
Rees." 

Michael  was  still  standing  at  the  window  looking 
out. 

The  aspect  of  the  whole  world  had  changed.  Es- 
sylt still  living!  The  bond  that  had  been  so  irksome 
still  upon  him !  The  fetters  which  he  had  got  to  think 
of  as  so  galling  still  hanging  over  him !  Must  he  again 
bend  his  neck  to  the  terrible  yoke?  Impossible!  for 
during  those  weeks  of  freedom  he  had  learnt  to  look 
upon  the  past  with  a  clear  vision,  had  seen  things  in  a 
different  light,  had  wondered  his  eyes  had  been  closed 
so  long,  that  he  had  not  seen  how  quixotic  would  have 
been  the  course  of  conduct  by  which  he  had  meant  to 
retrieve  the  long-past  fault.  But  the  girl!  poor  Es- 
sylt !  even  now  suffering,  while  he  was  wasting  his  time 
in  useless  thoughts,  and  losing  himself  in  a  labyrinth 
of  puzzling  doubts.  "  What  a  brute  I  am !  "  he  mut- 
tered, turning  to  the  woman.  "  Let  us  start.  Which 
way  do  you  go  ?  " 

"  There  is  only  one  way,  sir ;  down  to  the  shore  and 
from  there  to  Llangraig,  then  up  by  the  cartroad  to 
our  house;  but  poor  Essylt  Lewis  used  to  come  by  a 
short  cut  through  the  woods." 

"  Essylt  Lewis  still  alive,  and  in  your  cottage ! "  said 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          255 

Michael  again,  as  they  left  the  house.  "  We  thought 
she  was  drowned,  for  her  shawl  was  found  on  the 
beach  at  Llangraig." 

"  Yes !  indeed,  sir,  and  that's  a  wonderful  thing ; 
anid!  anwl,  how  your  faults  find  you  out!  'Twas  a 
dreadful  windy  night,  and  'twas  a  Saturday  night,  and 
I  had  forgotten  to  go  to  Llangraig  to  fetch  my  hus- 
band's new  shoes.  All  of  a  sudden  I  remembered,  and  I 
ran  all  the  way  through  the  wind.  Poor  Essylt  was 
asleep  in  the  wood-shed,  and  my  father  promised  to 
watch  over  her.  Her  shawl  was  hanging  in  the  pas- 
sage, and  I  snatched  it  from  the  peg  and  threw  it  over 
my  head.  If  she  had  been  well,  I  would  not  have  ven- 
tured to  do  it  for  the  world.  When  I  got  to  Llangraig 
the  wind  was  dreadful,  and  when  I  was  running  across 
the  beach  it  dragged  Essylt's  shawl  from  my  shoul- 
ders and  it  flew  like  a  great  big  bird  into  the  sea. 
Oh,  anwl!  I  was  frightened,  but  I  thought  she  would 
never  find  it  out,  and  there !  if  they  didn't  find  it  washed 
up  on  the  shore!  I  knew  it  was  hers,  as  soon  as  I 
heard  of  it." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,"  said  Michael.  "  First  of  all, 
why  did  you  put  on  that  stolid  look  and  tell  me  a 
downright  lie  when  I  asked  you  if  the  girl  was  with 
you?" 

"  Yes !  I  did,  sir.  I  had  given  the  poor  girl  my 
faithful  promise  never  to  let  out  to  anyone  that  she 
was  with  me.  D'you  think  I  would  break  my  word  to  a 
dying  woman?  dir  anwl!  no!  nor  father  either." 

"  And  now  you  have  come  to  fetch  me,  does  she 
know?" 

"  Know?  Tad  anwl!  no !  she'd  have  a  fit  if  she  knew; 
but  this  is  how  it  was,  you  see,  sir — we  saw  she  was  dy- 
ing, and  we  were  afraid  we  would  have  trouble  about 


256  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

the  *  sutificate '  to  bury  her,  if  no  doctor  had  been  to 
see  her." 

"  And  how  long  was  the  poor  thing  a  patient  of  your 
father's,  and  how  has  she  managed  to  hide  her 
illness  for  so  long,  and  what  was  her  object  in  doing 
so?" 

"  Well,  you  see,  sir,  she  has  such  a  proud,  wild  tem- 
per, that  she  could  not  bear  anyone  to  pity  her;  she 
was  expecting  always  my  father  would  cure  her,  and 
so  he  would  have,  if  she  had  behaved  herself  like  other 
people;  but  she  was  so  fierce  and  so  angry  to  some 
people,  and  hated  some  with  such  a  bitter  anger,  that 
I  believe  it  was  eating  her  heart  out.  There  was  one 
girl  in  particular  whom  she  hated.  Oh!  I  never  saw 
such  hatred.  That  will  be  cause  of  death  at  last.  She 
came  to  us  one  night;  she  had  been  running  through 
the  woods  like  a  wild  thing,  and  when  I  opened  the 
door  she  had  fallen  down  on  the  doorstep.  She  was  in 
terrible  pain,  she  had  burst  a  vein  in  her  breast,  and  it 
had  been  bleeding  all  the  way  as  she  ran.  She  couldn't 
speak  from  weakness  for  some  time.  My  father  at- 
tended to  her,  and  she  soon  came  to,  and  was  as  fierce 
as  ever. 

"  '  Make  haste,'  she  said,  e  make  haste — you  must 
give  me  something  that  will  stop  this  bleeding;  I  must 
get  back  to  Llyn  Dystaw  in  the  morning.  After  that, 
I  don't  care  what  happens.' 

"'Llyn  Dystaw?'  said  my  father.  'Why,  it  is  as 
much  as  your  life  is  worth,  my  girl.' 

"  *  Come,  make  haste,  give  me  something  to 
strengthen  me;  you've  cheated  me  all  these  long 
months  saying  you  were  going  to  cure  me.' 

"  '  I  have  never  cheated  you,'  said  my  father.  '  I've 
always  told  you  that  I  could  never  cure  you,  unless 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          257 

you  could  behave  yourself  like  a  reasonable  woman. 
How  came  you  to  be  in  that  state?  Haven't  I  told 
you  to  keep  your  arm  in  a  sling?' 

"  *  A  sling,  indeed ;  not  I,'  she  said,  '  I  could  never 
have  given  that  Barbara  such  a  good  shake,  if  my  arm 
had  been  in  a  sling.  I  met  her  face  to  face  by  the 
lake ;  we  had  a  few  words,  oh !  how  I  hate  her !  and  she 
looked  so  proud  and  calm  as  if  nothing  I  said  made 
any  difference  to  her.  I  lost  my  temper  suddenly,  and 
I  seized  her  two  arms  and  shook  her  as  if  she  had  been 
a  rat.  I  would  like  to  have  shaken  her  life  out  of  her, 
but  suddenly  I  felt  a  dreadful  pain ;  I  pushed  her  away 
from  me  with  all  my  strength,  and  I  thought  I  had 
killed  myself,  the  pain  was  so  dreadful,  so  I  ran  for 
my  life  through  the  brambles  and  trees  all  the  way 
here.  Now  you've  got  to  patch  me  up,  for  I  must  go 
back  and  say  good-bye  to  Michael  Lloyd  to-morrow 
morning.' " 

Michael  groaned  as  he  remembered  how  ghastly  she 
had  looked  at  times — that  last  morning. 

"  Poor  soul,"  he  said,  "  poor  soul !     Well,  go  on ! " 

"  Well,  my  father  tried  his  best  to  dissuade  her  from 
attempting  such  a  thing,  but  oh  !  dir  anwl!  she  wouldn't 
listen,  and  got  wild  with  excitement  and  spoke  very 
unkind  to  poor  father,  who  had  done  so  much  for  her. 
'  Do  as  I  tell  you,  man,'  she  said,  '  or  else  I  will  tell 
the  whole  world  what  a  liar  and  a  fraud  you  are.' 
Then  she  changed  her  tone  and  begged  him  in  such  a 
piteous  voice,  '  Oh  ...  do  your  best  for  me,  a 
poor  girl  who  has  been  cruelly  used  by  everybody. 
Only  to-morrow  I  want  to  keep  up,  then  I  don't  care 
what  becomes  of  me ! '  So  my  father  did  all  he  could 
for  her.  He  mended  the  broken  vein  with  the  black 
web  of  the  mountains  that  he  gathers  from  the  face  of 


258  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

the  grass  before  the  dawn.  I  gave  her  some  breakfast, 
but  little  could  she  eat,  poor  thing,  and  I  went  with 
her  part  of  the  way.  I  shall  never  forget  that  walk, 
the  beautiful  sky  and  the  stars  and  the  dawn  coming 
up  in  the  east,  and  that  miserable  soul  by  my  side !  Oh ! 
I  did  long  to  comfort  her,  but  I  know  now,  poor  thing, 
there  is  no  peace  for  her  this  side  of  the  grave,  because 
the  misery  is  in  herself.  She  didn't  talk  a  word,  only 
say  *  Go  back,  go  back,'  and  at  last,  when  the  briars 
got  too  thick  and  the  trees  too  close,  I  did  go  back, 
because  Colonel  Powell  can't  bear  paths  made  through 
his  boundaries  which  keep  the  poachers  out.  Well, 
there  isn't  much  more  to  tell,  until  one  day,  about  six 
weeks  ago,  she  suddenly  arrived  again.  Oh,  she  was 
much  worse — could  scarcely  crawl  to  the  door;  she 
begged  and  implored  for  a  room  to  die.  *  That's  all 
I  ask,  put  me  in  the  wood-shed,'  she  said;  'I  will  be 
quite  content,  only  hide  me  with  the  brlwyd ';  and 
that's  what  I  did." 

"  The  wood-shed !    Oh !  poor  Essylt ! "  said  Michael. 

"Well,  doctor,  what  could  I  do?  There  was  not  a 
spare  foot  of  room  in  the  cottage,  so  we  cleared  out 
the  end  of  this  wood-shed,  and  you  shall  see  for  your- 
self the  nice  little  bedroom  she  has  there.  'Tis  cool 
and  airy,  and  I  have  done  all  I  can  for  her." 

"  But  she  wasn't  in  the  wood-shed  the  day  Mr.  Owen 
and  I  came  to  look  for  her?  "  said  Michael. 

"  Yes !  she  was,"  said  the  woman,  a  sparkle  of  satis- 
faction in  her  eye.  "  When  we  go  out,  you  see,  we 
pile  the  brlwyd  up  over  the  window  and  bring  it  chock- 
ful  to  the  door,  so  that  no  one  could  guess  what  a  nice 
little  room  there  is  inside,  so  come  you  and  see,"  she 
said ;  "  and  of  course  it  will  be  a  sad  little  room  for 
you,  for  I  can  see  you  loved  her  very  much." 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          259 

Michael  flushed  to  the  roots  of  his  hair  as  he  felt 
how  mistaken  the  woman  was. 

"  I  hope  she  won't  have  passed  away,"  she  said ; 
"  that  would  be  a  terrible  thing  for  us,  as  well  as  for 
you." 

Michael  was  silent,  for  in  his  heart  of  hearts  he  knew 
he  would  have  given  all  he  possessed  to  escape  the 
painful  interview  which  he  knew  awaited  him. 

"  She  was  always  expecting  to  get  well,  though  my 
father  told  her  a  score  of  times  that  she  would  not — ; 
that  she  never  could,  unless  she  altered  her  ways.  At 
last  she  gave  it  up  and  believed.  That  time  when  she 
came  to  us  and  fell  on  the  doorstep — from  that  time 
forward,  she  knew  there  was  no  getting  well  for  her, 
and  that  when  she  came  next  it  would  be  only  to  die. 

"  Here  we  are  now,  here's  our  house,"  and  the  little 
market-woman's  eyes  brightened  as  they  came  in  sight 
of  the  woodman's  cottage.  Yes,  there  it  was,  looking 
even  more  picturesque  when  approached  from  the 
Llangraig  side  of  the  wood — one  end  of  it  hidden  be- 
neath the  ivy  which  reached  to  the  very  chimney-top; 
the  other  half  embowered  in  creeping  roses.  Here 
too  was  the  large  black  shed  across  the  yard  which  had 
looked  such  a  rustic  and  natural  adjunct  to  a  wood- 
man's cottage,  when  Tom  and  he  had  first  visited  the 
place,  but  whose  blackness  and  sombreness  now  bore  a 
suggestive  gloom  to  Michael. 

"  Wait  one  minute,"  said  the  little  woman,  when 
they  reached  the  yard,  "  while  I  fetch  a  letter  which 
she  told  me  to  give  to  you,  sir.  Now  remember,  I 
have  given  it.  Oh,  anwl!  I  couldn't  fail  to  do  that 
for  the  world,  so  often  have  I  promised  and  sworn 
to  her,  poor  girl,  to  deliver  it  to  you  alone,  so  here  it 
is,  sir,"  and  she  handed  to  Michael  a  letter  in  a  blue 


260  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

envelope  with  a  large  red  seal.  "It's  all  about  that 
girl  she  hates  so  much,  to  show  you  she  is  a  false  and 
wicked  girl  and  a  murderess.  Pier  thing!  of  course, 
it's  only  imagination,  sir,  but  don't  you  contradict  her, 
or  she'll  have  a  fit." 

"  I  will  not,  I  will  not,"  said  Michael,  placing  the 
letter  in  his  pocket.  "  Come,  let  us  go  in  and  see 
her." 

The  upper  half  of  the  wood-shed  door  was  already 
open,  the  small  branches  in  the  shed  apparently  filling 
the  aperture  entirely. 

The  woodman's  wife,  having  opened  the  lower  half, 
soon  began  deftly  to  throw  aside  some  of  the  fagots, 
and  thus  with  very  little  exertion  made  an  opening 
to  the  further  end.  Through  this  she  passed,  and 
Michael  easily  followed  though  he  had  to  stoop  his  tall 
head  a  little.  The  window,  although  open,  was  still 
blocked  up  by  a  bundle  of  small  branches  which  made 
a  delicate  screen  without  darkening  the  interior  too 
much. 

The  room  was  large  and  airy;  the  walls  of  black 
boards  covered  with  bright-coloured  prints  and  alma- 
nacks. In  the  corner  stood  a  small  iron  bedstead,  upon 
it  the  pale  form  of  a  girl,  so  wasted  and  worn  that  for 
a  moment  Michael  doubted  the  evidence  of  his  senses. 
This  emaciated  skeleton,  Essylt?  These  listless  hands, 
Essylt's?  Accustomed  as  he  was  to  witness  the  rav- 
ages of  sickness  and  disease,  he  was  startled  to  see 
such  a  complete  wreck  of  what  had  once  been  a  fine 
woman.  They  had  hushed  their  footsteps  a  little  in 
entering,  but  they  need  not  have  done  so,  for  Essylt 
was  in  a  heavy  trance-like  sleep,  and  only  the  slight 
movement  of  a  frill  at  the  neck  showed  that  she  was 
still  alive. 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          261 

"  She  won't  hear  you,"  said  the  woodman's  wife ; 
"  she  is  like  this  often  the  last  few  days." 

She  drew  forward  a  rough  stool  upon  which  Michael 
sat  down,  and,  whilst  he  gazed  upon  the  features  of 
the  girl  whose  life  had  been  so  closely  interwoven  witK 
his  own,  quietly  went  out  of  the  room.  The  strong 
pity  which  for  so  many  years  had  taken  the  place  of 
love  in  his  heart  swelled  up  again  within  him,  and 
while  she  lay  there  still  and  silent  he  almost  felt  that 
he  wished  he  could  snatch  her  from  the  jaws  of 
death. 

The  whole  place  seemed  strangely  quiet,  for  it  was 
noon,  and  the  birds  were  all  silent.  He  was  glad  that 
the  woman  had  left  them  entirely  alone,  and  inadvert- 
ently he  drew  from  his  pocket  the  strange-looking 
letter  which  had  just  been  given  him  and  proceeded  to 
examine  it.  Yes!  there  was  Essylt's  scrawling  hand- 
writing, with  many  capitals  where  they  need  not  have 
been,  the  lines  sloping  up  towards  the  right-hand  cor- 
ner of  the  envelope.  "  To  Dr.  Michael  Lloyd.  I,  Es- 
sylt  Lewis,  send  this  letter  to  let  him  know  the  truth 
about  Barbara  Owen,  because  she  is  a  wicked,  dread- 
ful creature  and  a  murderess." 

He  turned  it  over  and  looked  at  the  seal,  the  large 
red  seal  all  covered  with  marks  of  the  little  key.  The 
bright  red  sealing-wax  reminded  him  of  the  scarlet 
thread  of  Essylt's  lips,  her  curious  complexion,  her 
light  colourless  hair,  and  the  strange  grey-green  eyes 
that  were  hid  under  the  heavy  white  eyelids — and  the 
memory  was  distinctly  unpleasant.  Better,  far  better, 
the  calm  white  face  that  lay  on  the  bed  beside  him! 
Suddenly  there  was  a  flicker  of  the  eyelids  and  he  hur- 
riedly replaced  the  blue  better  in  his  pocket. 

Gradually  the  heavy  lids  were  raised,  disclosing  the 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 

eyes ;  they  gazed  before  her  for  a  few  moments  with  a 
vacant  expression,  then  looked  round  the  quaint  little 
bedroom,  but  evidently  saw  nothing  of  the  man  who 
sat  there  so  silently,  so  patiently.  The  lips  moved  a 
little  too,  and  she  began  to  speak  incoherently  and 
jerkily. 

At  this  moment  the  woodman's  wife  re-entered,  and 
Michael  felt  that  it  was  time  for  the  man  to  be  merged 
in  the  doctor.  Gently  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  flicker- 
ing pulse,  and  tenderly  but  firmly  he  called,  "Essylt, 
lass ! "  but  there  was  no  rational  response,  only  the 
senseless  babble  of  a  fevered  brain.  Over  and  over 
again  he  tried  to  rouse  her  from  her  lethargy,  calling 
her  by  name,  and  with  many  tender  terms  of  endear- 
ment. 

"  Well,  I  am  thankful  at  least  that  she  does  not  seem 
to  be  in  much  pain." 

"  Oh,"  said  the  woman,  shaking  her  head  sorrow- 
fully ;  "  her  pains  are  over,  sir,  and  now  this  medicine 
is  giving  her  quietness  and  peace  to  die,"  and  she  drew 
from  the  shelf  a  bottle  of  some  stuff  which  was  evi- 
dently of  a  vegetable  nature. 

"What  is  that?"  said  Michael,  taking  the  bottle 
and  examining  it  nervously,  and  with  the  usual  con- 
tempt of  a  medical  practitioner  who  regards  every- 
thing outside  the  groove  of  his  own  experience  as  sus- 
picious and  dangerous.  He  took  out  the  cork  and 
smelt  it,  poured  a  little  on  his  finger  and  tasted  it,  at 
last  returning  it  to  the  woman  with  grave  disappro- 
bation. 

"  You  should  have  come  to  us  weeks  ago,  and  we 
might  have  done  something  to  soothe  the  poor  girl's 
pain." 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          263 

"  Could  you  have  done  more  for  her  than  my  father 
has  done?  Can  you  now  give  her  a  more  peaceful 
death?" 

"I  should  be  sorry  to  interfere  now,"  said  Michael; 
"  it  is  too  late,"  and  he  laid  his  fingers  once  more  upon 
the  pulse. 

"  She  sees  you,  she  knows  you,"  whispered  his  com- 
panion, and  he  saw  that  it  was  so.  For  a  moment  the 
light  of  reason  shone  in  Essylt's  eyes,  and  her  lips 
parted. 

"  Maychael ! "  she  said,  "  you  have  found  me,  but 
you  cannot  keep  me."  Her  voice  dropped,  and  Mi- 
chael saw  it  was  too  late  to  reason  with  her,  so  he  re- 
strained the  questions  which  rose  to  his  lips,  and  merely 
passed  his  arm  under  her  shoulders  and  bent  his  head 
towards  hers,'  while  he  spoke  the  tenderest,  the  most 
soothing  words  he  could.  Suddenly,  with  a  marvellous 
accession  of  the  vitality  which  had  helped  her  to  bear 
up  so  long,  she  raised  herself  into  a  sitting  posture, 
and  looking  fixedly  at  the  woodman's  wife  said,  "  The 
letter?  " 

"  I  have  given  it  to  him,  my  dear,"  said  the  woman, 
and  Michael  hastened  to  satisfy  her  further  by  taking 
the  blue  envelope  out  of  his  pocket. 

"  Here  it  is,  Essylt,  vdch,"  he  said,  holding  it  before 
her  fast-closing  eyes,  and  for  a  moment  a  faint  look: 
of  satisfaction  spread  over  the  wasted  features.  Sud- 
denly she  weighed  more  heavily  on  Michael's  arm,  and 
he  knew  that  the  restless  spirit  had  flown.  He  laid  her 
gently  down,  and  the  woman,  with  her  apron  to  her 
eyes,  went  slowly  out  through  the  door  of  the  shed 
and  left  Michael  alone  with  the  dead.  She  turned  to 
the  path  along  which  she  expected  to  meet  her  husband 
returning  from  his  work ;  he  soon  appeared,  leading  the 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 

toddling  baby  by  the  hand,  Tango,  staid  and  impor- 
tant, keeping  guard  on  the  other  side  of  the  child. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  said  the  woodman,  seeing 
his  wife's  flushed  face.  "  Is  she  dead  ?  " 

"Yes,  poor  thing;  go  you  straight  home,  Ben,  and 
fasten  Tango  to  the  kitchen  table,  and  don't  go  near 
the  shed  until  the  doctor  will  come  in  to  you.  I  think 
he  is  liking  to  be  quiet  a  bit,  because,  do  you  know, 
Ben,  I  believe  that  story  we  heard  about  him  going  to 
marry  her  is  true.  I  am  going  up  to  fetch  Mari  Pen- 
arthen  to  help  me  to  lay  her  out.  I  will  soon  be 
home." 

Half  an  hour  later  Michael  entered  the  kitchen. 

"  How  are  you,  sir,"  said  Ben.  "  I  know  who  you 
are — my  wife  has  been  telling  me.  Dr.  Lloyd,  of  Cwm 
Meivon,  isn't  it?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Michael.  "  I  am  glad  you  have  re- 
turned. I  want  to  settle  a  few  things  with  you  before 
I  go;  first  to  thank  you  for  so  kindly  sheltering  that 
poor  girl,  Essylt  Lewis,  and  for  nursing  her  with  such 
care  and  kindness.  I  am  used  to  sick  rooms,  and  I've 
never  seen  a  cleaner  or  more  dainty  room  than  your 
wood-shed." 

"  No,  no,  sir.  My  father-in-law's  herbs  keep  it  pure 
and  sweet.  I  don't  know  has  my  wife  told  you  or  not 
that  the  poor  girl  made  us  promise  that  she  should  not 
be  moved  from  here  till  she  was  taken  to  her  grave." 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  was  going  to  propose,  if 
you  have  no  objection;  I  will  pay  you  well  for  all  your 
trouble  and  kindness,  so  far  as  money  can  pay  for  these 
things." 

"  'Twill  be  no  trouble  at  all,  sir ;  and  also  I  must 
tell  you  she  wished  that  nobody  but  me  should  see  about 
the  funeral,  so  you  had  better  leave  it  all  to  me,  sir. 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          265 


'And  where  would  you  like  to  be  burled,  Essylt 

says  I.    '  What  do  I  care  where  you  bury  me,'  she  said, 

quite  fierce-like  ;  '  only  not  at  Cwm  Meivon.'  ' 

"I  think  I  understand  her  feelings,"  said  Michael; 
"  poor  Essylt,  her  wishes  shall  be  attended  to,"  and  as 
he  went  home  through  the  wood  he  was  thankful  that 
Essylt's  wishes  thus  expressed  made  the  painful  duties 
that  fall  upon  the  bereaved  less  trying  to  him  than 
they  would  otherwise  have  been.  As  he  followed  the  tan- 
gled path,  through  which  he  and  Tom  had  made  their 
way  a  short  time  before,  every  briar,  every  obstruct- 
ing root,  seemed  to  remind  him  of  the  girl  who  had  so 
often  trodden  this  path  alone  under  the  stars.  There 
was  the  bush  upon  which  Tom  had  picked  a  shred  of 
her  shawl,  and  as  he  made  his  way  further  and  further 
into  the  thicket  he  had  a  strange  feeling  that  the  rest- 
less spirit  of  that  unhappy  girl  was  leading  him  along 
the  difficult  path  —  and  he  was  glad  when  he  at  last 
emerged  from  the  close-pressing  brushwood  and  found 
himself  on  the  banks  of  the  little  lake  which  glanced 
and  rippled  in  the  afternoon  sun  with  its  constant  yet 
ever-changing  beauty. 

As  he  walked  along  the  woodland  path  he  remem- 
bered the  letter  which  the  woman  had  given  him,  and, 
taking  it  out  of  his  pocket  once  again,  he  turned  it 
over  and  over  with  a  strange  reluctance  to  open  it  and 
make  himself  acquainted  with  its  contents.  Why  should 
he  do  so?  Why  perpetuate  poor  Essylt's  bitter  rail- 
ings against  Barbara,  for  this,  he  felt  sure,  was  the 
whole  gist  of  the  letter.  He  knew  them  so  well  —  those 
bitter,  acrimonious  words  —  and  his  loyalty  to  Barbara 
made  him  shrink  from  the  perusal  of  them.  Should  he 
tear  it  up  and  throw  it  in  the  lake?  No!  that  would 
appear  like  disrespect  to  Essylt's  last  wishes,  and  he 


266  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

had  reached  the  stile  before  he  decided  how  to  act  in 
the  matter.  At  the  last  moment  he  came  to  a  decision, 
and  wondered  he  had  not  thought  of  that  solution  of 
the  difficulty  before.  He  would  keep  the  letter — he 
would  lock  it  up  safely,  and  at  some  future  time  when 
all  these  harrowing  events  had  been  softened  by  Time, 
then  he  would  read  it — it  would  have  lost  its  sting, 
and  a  dim  sort  of  feeling  passed  through  his  mind  that 
Essylt  had  already  dropped  those  bitter  feelings  of 
hatred  in  the  awakening  to  a  higher  life,  and  as  he 
crossed  the  green  towards  the  west  porch  he  had  al- 
ready decided  to  put  away  from  him  all  thought  of 
the  letter  until  a  future  occasion. 

The  following  week  was  a  time  of  fresh  upheaval  in 
Michael's  life.  The  news  of  Essylt's  discovery  and  her 
death  caused  great  excitement,  and  her  funeral,  which 
took  place  in  a  few  days,  was  the  largest  ever  known 
in  the  neighbourhood.  People  crowded  from  hill  and 
dale  to  the  quiet  woodman's  cottage,  and  followed  the 
simple  cortege  with  tearful  eyes,  and  joined  in  the 
funeral  hymns  with  sobbing  voices. 

Conspicuous  amongst  them  was  a  brilliant  red  cart 
from  Tyissa,  in  which  Peggy  sat  swaying  backwards 
and  forwards,  a  black-edged  handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 
All  Essylt's  peculiarities  were  forgotten,  and  only  her 
sad  fate  and  mysterious  nature  were  remembered. 
"  Poor  thing,"  they  said,  "  there  was  something  wrong 
always,"  as  if  a  thread  of  the  wrong  colour  had  got 
into  the  weaving  and  was  showing  itself  continually  in 
the  pattern,  and  as  they  caught  a  glimpse  of  Michael 
and  Tom  in  the  mourning  carriage  they  added,  "  Dr. 
Lloyd,  poor  fellow,  has  gone  through  a  hard  time, 
too." 

In  this  they  were  quite  right,    as    the   lines  in  Mi- 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          267 

chael's  face  showed.  He  seemed  to  have  aged  a  good 
many  years,  and  the  lightness  and  buoyancy  that  had 
been  his,  when  he  and  Barbara  had  gathered  cowslips 
in  the  Tyissa  fields,  seemed  to  him  like  the  golden  haze 
of  a  long-past  childhood. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

MAENTREVOR,  in  fine  weather,  was  a  delightful  country 
town,  when  the  sun  shone  straight  down  on  the  roofs 
of  the  houses,  which  cast  their  fantastic  shadows  on 
the  uneven  and  picturesque  streets,  and  tempted  the 
women  members  of  the  household  to  bring  their  knitting 
to  the  doorstep  and  to  shout  greetings  to  one  another, 
or  to  make  remarks  on  the  doings  of  their  neighbours ; 
but  in  wet  weather  it  was  always  called  "  a  dismal 
hole,"  and  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  epithet  was 
not  inappropriate,  for  the  surrounding  country  pressed 
in  so  closely  upon  it,  that  in  some  places  it  might 
almost  be  said  to  be  looking  down  over  the  roofs  of  the 
houses.  The  town  itself  was  no  different  to  other 
country  towns — the  large  square  houses  of  the  better 
classes  mixed  up  with  the  usual  hideous  five-windowed 
dwellings  of  those  of  humbler  degree,  three  windows 
on  the  first  floor,  and  one  on  each  side  of  the  door, 
making  as  unlovely  a  tenement  as  it  is  possible  to 
imagine.  About  five  o'clock  in  the  evening  the  cows, 
of  which  every  family,  rich  or  poor,  strove  to  keep  one 
or  two,  used  to  come  home  to  be  milked,  the  maid-iof- 
all-work  or  the  boy  fetching  them  from  their  pastur- 
age, where,  in  all  probability,  they  had  found  them 
grazing  near  the  gate,  expectant  of  the  welcome  sum- 
mons. Then  "  Mari "  or  "  Dye  "  had  but  to  push  the 
gate  open,  and  the  cows,  after  invariably  snatching  a 
last  mouthful  or  two  of  the  sweet  grass  before  they 
passed  through,  in  order  to  chew  it  meditatively  on  the 
road,  sauntered  homewards  at  their  own  sweet  will,  and 

268 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          269 

the  boy  or  girl,  as  the  case  might  be,  would  take  the 
opportunity  for  a  chat  with  any  of  their  friends  whom 
they  might  meet  on  the  way,  knowing  well  that 
"  Trwdi "  or  "  Katti  "  would  trudge  solemnly  home- 
wards as  casually  and  as  leisurely  as  they  did  them- 
selves. A  stranger  staying  at  one  of  the  two  respect- 
able hotels  in  the  town,  watching  the  meanderings  of 
the  patient  creatures  as  they  came  up  the  street,  would 
sometimes  observe  them  stopping  suddenly,  just  in 
front  of  the  "  bus  "  which  trundled  out  of  the  yard  to 
the  station  two  or  three  times  in  the  day,  and  would 
wonder  to  see  the  "busman"  make  an  obliging  curve 
in  his  route,  and  "  Trwdi "  turn  leisurely  towards  one 
of  the  five-windowed  houses.  There  was  no  gate  or 
archway  by  which  she  could  penetrate  the  solid  pha- 
lanx of  houses  and  reach  the  cowhouse  at  the  back, 
but  she  would  go  solemnly  onwards  and  walk  straight 
in  at  the  front  door  (usually  left  obligingly  open)  and 
through  the  passage  into  the  back  yard. 

Both  Mr.  Preece  and  Dr.  Rees  lived  in  the  main 
street  of  Maentrevor — indeed,  the  whole  of  the  town 
might  be  said  to  consist  of  but  one  irregular  street 
of  about  a  mile  in  length.  Their  houses  were  only 
about  a  dozen  doors  apart,  consequently  there  were 
frequent  interchanges  of  short  visits  between  their 
inmates.  Mr.  Preece  himself  w.ould  often  saunter  up 
to  Dr.  Rees's  doorstep,  and  after  an  hour  or  two  spent 
in  his  cosy  room,  in  amicable  gossip,  would  return  to 
his  own  office,  or  vice  versa,  Dr.  Rees  or  Michael  Lloyd 
would  stroll  up  to  Mr.  Preece's  to  discuss  some  new 
item  of  interest  in  local  news.  In  neither  house  was 
there  often  seen  the  flutter  of  a  petticoat  except  on 
business,  but  just  now  such,  however,  was  not  the  case, 
for  Mabel  Hume  had  come  once  more  to  enliven  the 


270  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

house  of  her  uncle,  and  Mr.  Preece  made  her  visit  the 
occasion  (and,  it  may  be,  also  the  excuse)  for  sundry 
little  hospitable  functions. 

Some  few  days  after  the  events  narrated  in  the  last 
chapter,  Michael,  feeling  rather  depressed  and  having 
no  appointment  with  a  patient  for  the  time  being, 
suddenly  bethought  himself  of  his  omission  to  call 
formally  on  Mabel  Hume.  He  was  not  addicted  to 
calling,  for  he  held  five  o'clock  tea,  with  its  attendant 
tittle-tattle  of  gossip,  as  an  abomination  to  be  avoided, 
but  to-day  he  was  inclined  to  seek  society  rather  than 
to  avoid  it.  He  accordingly  walked  down  to  Mr. 
Preece's  house  and  inquired  of  the  trim  little  Welsh 
maid  who  answered  his  ring  as  to  whether  Miss  Hume 
was  at  home. 

"  Iss,  sir,  please  to  walk  in."  He  did  so,  and  being 
ushered  into  the  parlour  found  Mabel  alone. 

"Oh!  Dr.  Lloyd,  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come.  I 
thought  you  were  never  coming,"  she  said,  using  her 
fine  eyes  to  their  full  effect,  for  this  was  a  habit  that 
she  always  practised,  the  more  especially  when  her 
batteries  could  be  turned  on  such  a  "  coming  man  "  as 
Dr.  Michael  Lloyd. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  been  long  in  calling,  but  my 
time,  you  see,  is  not  my  own,"  said  Michael,  smiling. 

"  No !  no !  I  know  that — but  do  sit  down." 

Michael  did  as  he  was  bade,  and  when  Mabel  would 
have  rung  for  the  lamp,  he  interposed,  saying,  "  Is  not 
this  firelight  more  soothing  than  the  lamplight,  Miss 
Hume?" 

Mabel  acquiesced:  "Very  well,  then,  we  will  have 
tea  here  in  the  gloaming — sounds  quite  romantic, 
doesn't  it?  I  don't  suppose  that  anyone  else  will  call 
to-day  as  it  is  getting  late,"  and  rising  from  the  sofa 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          271 

on  which  she  had  been  sitting  she  poured  out  the  tea 
whilst  Michael  gazed  moodily  into  the  fire. 

"  You  are  distrait,  Dr.  Lloyd,"  said  his  hostess. 

"  Yes !  I  am,  to-day.  I  fear  you  will  think  me  but 
dull  company.  By  the  by!  Have  you  seen  Mr.  Owen 
lately?  " 

"  No !  "  answered  Mabel,  raising  her  long  lashes  and 
darting  a  quick  look  at  her  interrogator,  who,  how- 
ever, seemed  quite  unaware  of  her  regard. 

"  He  is  a  good  fellow,"  said  Michael,  "  and  devoted 
to  his  sister." 

"  Yes !  so  I  understand — but  what  a  strange  girl 
she  is !  I  have  only  met  her  once — at  the  musty  old 
mill  which  they  occupy.  How  anyone  could  live  there 
I  cannot  imagine.  Ugh!  the  bats  and  the  owls  that 
Miss  Owen  tells  me  roost  in  the  ivy!  and  I  am  sure  the 
place  must  be  full  of  spiders ! "  and  Mabel  shuddered 
ostentatiously. 

JMichael  smiled.  "  But  that  is  the  very  charm  of  it 
all.  You  know  it  is  also  my  home." 

"Your  home,  Dr.  Lloyd?" 

"  Yes,  and  my  dear  old  father  lives  there  still.  He 
is  the  best  father  in  the  world.  You  must  have  seen 
him  at  one  time  or  another — Philip  Lloyd — the  miller, 
you  know." 

"Philip  Lloyd  your  father!  Oh!  yes,  I  remember 
now — I  did  hear  that  his  son  had  gone  in  for  medi- 
cine." Mabel  did  not  add  that  she  also  knew  the 
whole  story  of  his  subsequent  success  in  his  profession, 
and  the  terrible  risk  he  had  run  of  ruining  his  career 
by  his  wishing  to  marry  Essylt  Lewis,  for  by  this  time 
the  whole  country-side  was  revelling  in  the  gossip.  Oh, 
no !  She  was  far  too  astute  for  that,  and  already  she 
had  formed  hopes  that  in  time  her  own  fate  might  be 


272  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

linked  with  that  of  the  man  who  now  sat  with  her. 
Poor  Tom — she  had  already  forgotten  him — but  why 
should  we  pity  Tom  Owen?  for  if  he  had  married  Ma- 
bel his  tender  heart  would  soon  have  been  wrung  by 
the  fickle,  shallow  girl. 

"  And  so  you  don't  like  the  old  mill?"  said  Michael. 

"  Oh !  I  dare  say  it's  all  right  for  those  who  like  that 
kind  of  abiding  place — but  /  don't." 

"  And  Miss  Owen?  "  He  could  not  help  adding  this 
query,  for  his  heart  longed  for  some  sympathy,  and 
even  to  hear  Barbara's  name  was  some  consolation  to 
him. 

"Well!  I  like  Miss  Owen  very  well — but  is  she  not 
too  eerie?  She  has  such  strange  ideas  !  " 

"  Strange?  Eerie?  Quite  the  contrary,  I  should 
say.  Barba — Miss  Owen — strikes  me  as  possessing  a 
particularly  well-balanced  mind,  and  she  regards  her 
friends  and  neighbours  with  a  kindly  sympathy  that  I 
wish  some  of  us  could  imitate  more  closely.  No!  Miss 
Hume!  I  did  not  mean  that  rudely,"  said  Michael,  as 
he  perceived  a  look  of  quick  resentment  pass  over  Ma- 
bel's face.  "  I  fear  I  am  but  a  poor  hand  at  express- 
ing my  thoughts  in  correct  language.  What  I  meant 
was  that  Miss  Owen's  nature  is  an  exceptionally  sweet 
one — due,  in  a  great  measure,  I  have  no  doubt,  to  the 
influence  of  her  mother — she  died  a  short  while  ago, 
you  know!  Her  death  was  a  particularly  distressing 
and  painful  one,  and  was  a  great  shock  to  both  Tom 
and  his  sister.  I  have  never  been  able  to  account  for 
the  sudden  collapse  of  Mrs.  Owen.  I  knew  that  her 
death  was  but  a  matter  of  a  few  weeks,  but  I  hardly 
thought  it  would  be  quite  so  soon.  Barbara,  assisted 
by  dear  old  Peggy  Jerry,  nursed  her  mother  devotedly, 
and  when  the  end  came  she  quite  broke  down.  Indeed, 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          273 

Tom  was  but  little  better — he,  being  a  mere  man,  I 
suppose,  took  matters  more  philosophically,  but  Miss 
Owen  for  a  time  was  quite  inconsolable.  I  hope 
you  will  forgive  my  apparent  enthusiasm,  but — but, 
I  was  deeply  interested  in  the  case,  you  see — as  I  had 
never  seen  one  of  quite  a  similar  kind  before."  Mabel 
smiled. 

"  Now,"  said  Michael,  "  as  we  are  in  talkative  mood, 
what  do  you  notice  as  *  eerie '  in  Miss  Owen's  con- 
duct?" 

"Oh!  her  conduct,  I  am  sure,  is  irreproachable" — 
Michael  inclined  his  head  gravely — "  but  some  of  her 
ideas  on  one's  duty  towards  one's  neighbours,  for  ex- 
ample, are,  to  say  the  least  of  them,  quixotic " 

"  Quixotic — how  ?  But  look  here,  Miss  Hume — I 
have  always  held  aloof  from  gossip,  and  here  I  am  dis- 
cussing the  affairs  of  my  neighbours  as  keenly  as  any 
lady,  who,  if  rumour  be  true,  cultivates  the  art  to  per- 
fection. Am  I  unjust?" 

Michael  spoke  in  this  strain,  hoping  to  divert  the 
argument  from  a  line  which  he  considered  rather  un- 
justifiable, the  more  particularly  as  the  subject  of 
their  talk  was  one  in  whom  he  was  so  deeply  inter- 
ested; but  he  had  to  deal  with  one  now  who  was  versed 
in  all  the  artless  guiles  of  womankind,  so,  artfully  as 
the  hook  was  hidden,  she  did  not  take  the  bait. 

"  Very  well,  Dr.  Lloyd — let  us  leave  Miss  Owen's 
conduct  out  of  the  question,  but  I  should  much  like 
to  have  your  opinion,  as  a  medical  man,  on  one  view  at 
least  that  she  holds.  I  am  quite  at  variance  with  it,  I 
should  not  very  much  like  to  be  a  friend  or  relative  of 
Miss  Owen's,  or  one  so  near  and  dear  to  her  that  her 
devotion  became  a  perfect  idolatry,  as  you  tell  me  this 
was  the  way  in  which  she  loved  her  mother." 


274  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"Not  like  to  be  her  nearest  and  dearest  friend? 
Why,  Miss  Hume,  the  person  who  could  attain  such  a 
pinnacle  in  Miss  Owen's  esteem  would  indeed  be  lucky. 

She  is "  Michael  rose  to  his  feet  and  looked  out 

on  to  the  little  street,  where  the  shadows  of  the  sun 
were  slowly  moving  over  the  garish  houses  on  the  oppo- 
site side,  and  bit  his  lip,  realising  how,  again,  his 
thoughts  had  forced  themselves  to  utterance,  and  that 
he  had  said  more  than  he  ought  to  have  done. 

Miss  Hume  looked  at  him  curiously,  a  half-wistful 
expression  in  her  eyes.  "  So  this  was  Michael  Lloyd's 
secret ! "  she  thought.  "  This  is  what  has  made  him 
so  preoccupied  to-day !  " 

"  Pshaw ! "  said  Michael,  returning  to  the  fireplace 
again.  **  Miss  Owen  would,  I  feel  sure,  not  thank  me 
for  championing  her,  seeing  that  she  needs  no  cham- 
pion ;  but  tell  me,"  he  continued,  "  since  you  are  deter- 
mined to  pursue  the  subject — why  would  you  not  care 
to  be  dear  to  her?  " 

"  Because  if  I  were  ill  I  should  fear  her." 

"Fear  her?  Why,  Barbara  Owen  would  not  will- 
ingly injure  anything  or  anyone.  I  have  seen  her 
pick  up  a  butterfly  that  had  a  broken  wing  and  cry 
softly  to  herself  as  she  placed  it  gently  on  a  bush 
in  the  sun,  realising  how  helpless  she  was  to  assist  it. 
[And  as  for  injuring  anyone  she  cared  for — or,  indeed, 
anyone  for  that  matter — she  would  rather  injure  her- 
self." 

"  That  may  be  so,  Dr.  Lloyd — but  such  are  not  the 
opinions  she  uttered  to  me." 

"  And  what  were  they,  pray  ? "  said  her  listener, 
smiling,  for  he  thought  that  as  he  could  not  divert  her 
from  the  subject,  he  might  as  well  allow  her  to  go  on 
without  interruption/ 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          275 

"  Well !  She  said  that  if  anyone  very  near  and  dear 
to  her  were  in  great,  great  agony,  and  if  she  could  do 
nothing  to  relieve  that  agony,  and  if  she  were  con- 
vinced that  no  human  science  could  spare  that  friend 
from  dreadful  pain,  sooner  than  see  her  live  on  in  such 
a  state  she  would,  unhesitatingly,  assist  her  to  die. 
Does  that  reconcile  you,  now,  to  your  estimate  of  Miss 
Owen's  character?  " 

"  Absolutely,  Miss  Hume !  "  said  Michael.  "  And 
now  I  really  must  be  going,  as  I  have  to  see  a  patient 
this  evening  who  lives  some  distance  out  in  the  country, 
and  I  had  several  things  to  prepare  before  starting. 
Good-bye,  Miss  Hume!  and  I  expect  that  when  you 
have  known  and  seen  more  of  Miss  Owen  you  will  think 
quite  as  highly  of  her  as  I  do,  for  I  can  assure  you," 
he  added  gravely,  "  that  you  have  quite  misunderstood 
her.  No !  please  don't  trouble  to  ring,  I  can  let  my- 
self out  quite  easily,"  and  with  a  smile  and  a  bow  he 
was  gone,  leaving  Mabel  to  the  reflection  that  if  she 
were  to  realise  her  hopes  of  cultivating  more  of  Mi- 
chael Lloyd's  acquaintance,  she  was  not  going  the 
right  way  about  it  by  attempting  to  beat  down  the 
barrier  that  a  strong  man's  chivalry  had  placed  be- 
tween her  and  the  girl  towards  whom  she  evinced  such 
apparently  unfriendly  feelings.  She  sat  down  once 
more,  and  for  some  time  gazed  pensively  into  the  glow- 
ing fire,  then  sighed  heavily  and  rang  for  a  light  to 
be  brought  in.  Meanwhile,  Michael  walked  back  to 
Dr.  Rees's  house  in  a  perturbed  state  of  mind.  He 
took  out  his  latchkey  and  opened  the  door  abstractedly, 
and,  on  going  into  the  consulting-room,  sat  down  heav- 
ily in  an  easy  chair  and  leant  his  head  on  his  hand 
wearily.  Mabel's  words  had  set  him  thinking  deeply, 
and  he  soon  rose  and  paced  with  quick  steps  up  and 


276  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

down  the  little  room.  "  I  could  have  sworn  when  I 
last  saw  Barbara  that  she  loved  me!  Her  dear  eyes 
told  me  as  much,  but  why  could  she  not  give  me  one 
little  gleam  of  hope,  for  she,  too,  must  know  how  I 
love  her?  "  and  in  the  strange  complexity  of  a  human 
brain  a  possibility  was  foreshadowed. 

"What  did  Mabel  Hume  insinuate?"  he  continued, 
speaking  to  himself.  " '  I  believe  that  if  they  were 
dying,  she  would  give  them  a  dose  to  send  them 
off  quickly.'  Surely  that  cannot  be  the  reason  for  the 
strange  change  in  Barbara's  manner  towards  me! 
Surely  it  cannot  be  that !  Not  that !  Oh,  God !  Not 
that!" 

A  wild  look  had  come  into  his  eyes,  his  lips  twitched 
convulsively,  and  he  moistened  them  with  his  tongue. 
"  Rot ! "  he  said  with  a  half  laugh ;  "  a  girl's  ill-na- 
tured chatter!  But  it  must  be  stopped,  for  it  may 
hurt  her — my  Barbara."  He  uttered  the  name  he 
loved  so  well  with  a  tender  cadence — "  I  will,  I  must 
cast  the  idea  from  me."  Still  the  thought  returned 
with  strange  persistence,  and  he  rang  the  bell  impa- 
tiently. He  told  the  old  housekeeper  who  attended  his 
summons,  "  Madlen,  I  am  going  to  see  old  Shacki 
Pentraeth — I  hear  he  is  very  ill.  You  know  how  he 
hates  doctors.  Well!  I  am  going  to  brave  his  anger 
and  see  if  I  cannot  make  the  old  man's  last  hours  a 
little  more  peaceful,  whether  he  is  willing  or  not,  for 
I  fear  he  is  going,  Madlen,  he  is  going.  If  anyone 
calls,  say  that  I  shall  be  home  about  ten." 

"Won't  you  have  any  dinner,  ser?  I've  some  cawl*, 

ser,  and  a  nice  piece  of  bakwn^  and  it  will  do  you 

good,  ser.    You  are  on  your  feet  all  day,  for  you  won't 

use  the  trap,  and  Fanny  getting  so  fat  and  lazy  too !  " 

*  Leek  broth.         t  Bacon. 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          277 

said  Madlen  with  the  licence  of  old  domestics,  her 
beady  black  eyes  gleaming  with  concern. 

"  Not  now !  Madlen  bach,"  said  Michael,  patting 
her  withered  old  cheek;  "but  you  can  keep  me  a  good 
basinful  by  the  time  I  come  back.  The  air  is  quite 
frosty  this  evening,  and  you  bet  that  I  will  do  justice 
to  your  good  care  when  I  return,"  and  he  passed  out 
briskly.  Madlen  watched  his  tall  figure  as  he  walked 
down  the  street. 

"  God  bless  him ! "  she  said.  "  We  are  lucky  to 
have  him  here,  if  only  for  a  few  weeks  at  a  time.  Fancy 
his  going  all  the  way  to  see  old  Shacki,  and  without 
being  sent  for,  too !  I  wouldn't  attend  the  old  soppenf  * 
Well!  well!  there  are  some  good  people  in  the  world 
after  all." 

Night  was  falling  fast  when  Phil  reached  the  path 
near  the  lake,  for  his  perturbed  old  spirit  had  urged 
him  to  take  a  walk.  When  he  left  the  old  mill  there 
was  a  keenness  in  the  air  that  to  those  who  did  not 
study  the  weather  betokened  frost,  but  as  he  gazed  up 
at  the  sky  ere  starting  into  the  wood,  Phil  shook  his 
head.  "  This  won't  last  long,"  he  muttered,  and  that 
his  prognostication  was  true  was  evidenced  by  the  fact 
that  now,  scarce  half  an  hour  afterwards,  the  whole 
face  of  nature  seemed  to  have  changed;  there  was  an 
ominous  shivering  of  leaves  in  the  trees;  black  clouds 
hastened  over  the  face  of  the  moon,  casting  a  depress- 
ing gloom  over  the  scene.  A  heavy  fit  of  depression 
weighed  upon  Philip.  Man  is  a  creature  of  moods, 
and  Philip  was  very  human.  The  highly  strung  cour- 
age which  had  hitherto  upheld  him  seemed  to  have  de- 
serted him;  life  seemed  a  blank,  honour  was  a  dream, 
conscience  a  chimera ;  there  can  be  no  God  behind  those 
*  A  bundle  of  straw — an  epithet  of  contempt. 


278  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

dark  clouds ;  and  he  walked  on  a  little  further  with  his 
chin  sunk  on  the  top  button  of  his  waistcoat.  As  he 
thus  mused  he  reached  the  shores  of  the  lake  itself,  and 
gazed  steadfastly  into  its  depths,  not  noticing  that 
the  wind-storm  in  the  trees  had  ceased  as  suddenly  as 
it  had  commenced,  but  a  bright  gleam  in  the  water  ar- 
rested his  attention.  He  lifted  his  head  slowly  and 
gazed  up  at  the  swaying  tree-tops.  There,  just  above 
him  was  a  rift  in  the  thick  clouds,  and  a  bright  star 
shone  softly  and  pityingly  down  upon  him.  The  whole 
current  of  his  thoughts  was  changed!  His  heart  ex- 
panded and  he  flung  his  arms  wide  open,  raising  them 
towards  Heaven  as  he  sank  slowly  to  his  knees.  For 
a  moment  the  old  man  seemed  not  to  breathe,  then  his 
shoulders  heaved,  and,  with  the  tears  running  down 
his  wrinkled  face,  now  illumined  by  the  silver  moon, 
which  had  glided  out  of  her  cloud-mantle,  he  cried, 
"  Oh,  God !  forgive  me  my  doubting  fears."  He  heard 
a  firm,  manly  footstep  behind  him,  and  turned  a  face 
radiant  with  joy.  It  was  Michael. 

"  Father — dear  old  dad !  What  are  you  doing 
here?" 

And  he  lifted  the  old  man  to  his  feet. 

"  I  only  came  for  a  walk,  Michael,  my  boy — and  sad 
thoughts  fell  upon  me,"  and  he  looked  deprecatingly 
at  his  son. 

•  "  Come,  come,  dad !  you  must  not  fret,  for  you  are 
fretting,  I  know." 

"  Not  now,  my  boy,  not  now !  "  and  this  was  the  only 
explanation  he  gave  to  Michael,  who  respected  him  too 
much  ever  to  intrude  unasked  into  his  confidence. 

"Come,  father,  let  us  take  a  walk  together.  I  am 
going  to  see  old  Shacki  Pentraeth,  who  I  hear  is  very 
ill.  He  does  not  live  so'  very  far  from  here,  and  as  I 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          279 

see  the  night  is  clearing,  it  will  do  us  both  a  world  of 
good." 

Phil  shook  his  head.  "  No !  Maychael,  my  boy.  I 
am  too  old  to  walk  far.  Go  you,  my  boy,  and  I  will 
find  my  way  home.  Come  in  on  your  way  back,  will 
you?  It  will  not  be  much  out  of  your  way,  and  we 
can  have  a  mwgin*  together  once  more." 

"  Right  you  are,  father !  I  will  come ;  but,  look  here ! 
I  shall  accompany  you  till  you  are  out  of  the  wood. 
It  is  very  dark  under  those  trees,  you  know,  and  you 
might  miss  your  way." 

"  Miss  my  way !  I  knew  every  pathway  through 
these  woods  before  ever  you  were  thought  of,  lad.  No, 
no !  Go  you  on,  and  I  shall  expect  you  soon." 

"  Very  well ! "  said  Michael,  knowing  well  how  futile 
it  was  to  attempt  to  change  the  old  man's  mind  once 
it  was  made  up. 

"  Good-bye,  then !     I  shan't  be  very  long." 

The  old  man  nodded,  and  turned  slowly  back  along 
the  well-known  path  towards  the  mill,  whilst  Michael, 
with  long,  swinging  stride,  proceeded  briskly  on  his 
kindly  errand  of  succour  to  the  needy.  Where  his  path 
turned  towards  the  left,  in  the  direction  of  the  shore, 
along  which  he  had  to  proceed  for  some  distance  be- 
fore reaching  Pentraeth,  he  turned  and  looked  back- 
wards, but  owing  to  the  uncertain  light,  could  per- 
ceive no  trace  of  his  father.  "Poor  old  fellow — there 
is  something  troubling  him,  too — I  wonder  if  I  could 
find  out  what  it  is  ?  I  expect  he  is  still  thinking  of  that 
dream  of  his  regarding  myself  and  Barbara.  Ah,  Bar- 
bara, my  darling — I,  too,  would  to  God  that  it  would 
come  true,  but  its  consummation  appears  as  far  off  as 
ever."  Musing  thus,  he  reached  the  edge  of  the  wood, 

*  Smoke. 


280  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

and  went  down  the  path  which  pursued  its  irregular 
course  over  the  carpet  of  green  mossy  grass  that 
stretched  towards  and  fringed  on  the  seashore.  The 
moon  now  shone  brightly  again,  and  Michael  could  see 
the  white  edges  of  the  waves,  as  they  broke  murmur- 
ingly  on  the  yellow  sand. 

How  peaceful  it  all  was !  But  here,  although  not 
detracting  in  any  marked  degree  from  the  universal 
calm  and  quiet — although  their  sinister  influence  was 
somehow  felt  by  Michael  Lloyd — just  where  sea  and 
sky  joined,  the  clouds  l,ay  low  upon  the  silent  waters, 
sombre,  dark,  and  gloomy,  and  some  distance  away 
was  the  outline  of  a  bold  headland,  at  the  base  of 
which,  though  not  yet  within  sight,  nestled  the  cottage 
where  old  Shacki  lived.  Michael,  after  resting  a  mo- 
ment to  take  in  the  beauty  of  the  scene  around  him, 
for  his  temperament  was  such  as  always  responded  to 
Nature's  moods,  once  more  proceeded  on  his  way.  He 
had  covered  a  good  part  of  the  intervening  distance, 
when  he  espied  a  solitary  figure  walking  across  the 
stones  that  lay  between  the  shore  and  the  grass.  As 
he  came  nearer,  Michael  saw  that  he  evidently  was  an 
old  man,  with  spindle  shanks  and  crooked  shoulders, 
stooping  so  often  to  pick  up  something  that  he  was 
soon  abreast  of  him.  "You  would  find  the  hard  sands 
easier  to  walk  upon,  my  friend — those  cobble-stones 
are  very  troublesome."  The  old  man  straightened 
himself  a  little,  and  looked  at  Michael  with  faded  grey 
eyes  from  under  his  shaggy  eyebrows. 

"  No  doubt !  No  doubt ! "  he  said ;  "  but  on  the  sands 
I  would  not  find  what  I  am  looking  for,"  and  Michael 
saw  that  in  one  hand  he  carried  a  bundle  of  herbs. 
"This,  you  see,"  he  continued,  holding  up  a  trailing 
plant  with  thick  leaves  and  succulent  stem,  "  this  plant 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          231 

grows  here  plentifully,  but  the  one  I  am  seeking  for  is 
far  more  rare — but  I  must  find  it  somewhere,  if  I  have 
to  walk  to  Cefn  Idris  for  it." 

"  Must  you,  indeed?  "  said  Michael.  "  Well !  I  think 
we  have  a  spell  of  fine  weather  before  us,  so  you  will 
have  plenty  of  time  to  look  for  it." 

"  Dear  anwl!  no,"  said  the  old  man.  "  To-night  is 
the  full  moon,  and  I  must  make  hay  while  the  moon 
shines,  you  see,"  and  he  smiled  at  his  own  little  joke, 
and  looked  again  at  Michael  with  those  dim,  far-away 
eyes. 

"  Ah !  I  see,"  said  Michael.  "  You  are  a  herbalist,  I 
suppose ! " 

"  Yes !  I  spend  my  life,  as  my  father  and  my  grand- 
father did  before  me,  in  searching  for  the  blessed  herbs 
that  God  has  given  for  the  healing  of  man,  but  man  is 
too  proud  to  stoop  to  the  ground  to  find  His  cures." 

"And  have  you  cured  many  people?  "  said  Michael. 

"  Oh,  yes ! "  said  the  herbalist,  straightening  him- 
self once  more,  while  a  gleam  of  pleasure  transfigured 
the  old  face.  "  Oh,  yes !  "  he  said.  "  God  has  rewarded 
my  life  of  toil  by  granting  me  the  happiness  of  healing 
many.  Of  course,  if  the  decree  has  gone  forth,  I  can- 
not heal.  If  God  says,  '  Come,  then,'  man  must  go, 
but  'tisn't  every  disease  that  means  death.  Oh,  no! 
It  has  been  ordained  that  the  very  worst  diseases  shall 
yield  to  His  gentle  herbs." 

"Well,"  said  Michael,  "I  am  glad  you  find  such 
satisfaction  in  your  work.  /  am  a  healer  too,  in  a 
humble  way — I  am  a  doctor." 

"A  doctor!"  said  the  old  man.  "Oh,  then  you'll 
despise  old  Rhysin,  I  dare  say — but  listen  you  to  me, 
my  lad.  May  God  bless  your  work,  as  he  has  blessed 
mine;  but  listen  you  again,  machgen-i,  and,  believe  me 


282          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

• — the  secret  of  healing  Is  to  be  found  in  the  herbs  of 
the  field." 

"  Well — I  must  be  going!  "  said  Michael;  "the  next 
time  I  come  down  to  this  neighbourhood  we  must  have 
a  further  talk,"  and  he  hurried  on  his  way  towards  the 
little  white  cottage  under  the  cliffs.  On  his  arrival  he 
perceived  that  the  place  was  all  in  darkness.  He 
knocked  several  times,  but  got  no  answer,  so  in  spite  of 
what  he  had  said  to  Madlen  he  determined  not  to  enter 
uninvited,  and  walked  back  again  before  the  tide  came 
in  to  the  very  same  spot  where  he  had  met  the  old  man. 
He  was  still  there,  though  a  little  further  up  the 
strand,  peering  between  the  grass-grown  hummocks, 
too  intent  upon  his  search  to  notice  Michael,  who 
passed  him  quite  closely.  As  Michael  drew  abreast  of 
him,  he  could  not  forbear  from  calling  out,  "What, 
still  here ! "  The  old  man,  without  turning  round,  re- 
plied :  "  Yes,  machgen-i!  still  here."  Michael  looked 
at  his  watch  in  the  moonlight  and  saw  that  he  would 
have  to  hurry  if  he  was  to  reach  the  mill  before  his 
father  went  to  bed,  so  he  turned  abruptly  and  walked 
towards  the  high  ridge  which  lay  between  the  coast 
and  the  Meivon  woods — and  retracing  his  steps 
through  the  wood,  passed  Llyn  Dystaw,  and  soon  after- 
wards the  old  mill  came  to  view  bathed  in  a  flood  of 
silver  light,  the  moon's  rays  striking  full  upon  its  ga- 
bles and  silhouetting  the  whole  building  sharply  against 
the  sky.  A  light  was  shining  in  the  window  of  the 
room  occupied  by  old  Phil,  and  Michael,  knocking  at 
the  door,  entered  to  find  his  father  sitting  in  his 
favourite  chair  in  the  corner  of  the  old-fashioned  fire- 
place. "Ah!  machgen-i!  Is't  thou?  Come  in  and  sit 
down.* 

"  Only  for  a  few  minutes,  father.     It's  late,  and  I 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          283 

must  be  getting  back  to  Maentrevor.  Just  one  smoke, 
then,"  as  he  noticed  a  shade  as  of  disappointment  pass- 
ing over  Phil's  face. 

"When  is  Dr.  Rees  coming  back,  Maychael?" 

"  Next  month,  early.  He  seems  to  have  been  enjoy- 
ing himself  greatly,  and  in  a  letter  I  had  from  him  yes- 
terday morning  he  says  that  the  change  and  rest  have 
done  him  good,  and  that  his  patient  is  also  much 
better,"  answered  Michael,  puffing  at  his  old  briar. 

"Well,  then,  I  suppose  you  will  soon  be  going  back 
to  London,  my  boy,  and  your  old  father  will  be  lonely 
again ! " 

"  Lonely  ?  Oh,  no !  You  used  to  be  lonely,  I  know, 
but  now  you  have  Miss  Owen  and  Tom  here  in  the  mill 
with  you — you  are  all  right,  eh?  " 

"Yes!  I  s'pose  so — but,  machgen-i,  after  all's  said 
and  done,  'tis  one's  own  blood  one  clings  to.  Not  but 
that  Miss  Barbara  and  Master  Tom  are  good,  very 
good,  to  me." 

"  And  you  to  them,  too,  father." 

They  continued  talking  together  for  some  time 
longer,  till  Michael  rose,  saying  he  must  be  going, 
and  taking  his  hat  and  stick  from  the  settle  where  he 
had  laid  them  down  on  entering,  said,  "  Good  night, 
father,  and  don't  you  go  wandering  out  all  alone  to 
Llyn  Dystaw  at  night  again." 

"  No,  no,  my  boy ! " 

"  That's  right— Nos  dwwchl  "*  and  Michael  left  the 
room.  The  old  clock  on  the  wall  ticked  solemnly,  the 
heavy  pendulum  ,on  its  long  chain  swinging  slowly 
backwards  and  forwards ;  the  culm  fire  glowed  steadily, 
and  old  Phil-y-Velin  still  sat  in  his  chair  gazing  ab- 
stractedly into  the  fire ;  outside,  the  owls  hooted  weirdly 
*Good  night. 


284  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

as  they  flitted  silently  to  and  fro,  and  it  was  quite  an 
hour  after  Michael  had  gone  before  Phil,  lighting  the 
candle  which  Peggy  had  placed  ready  for  him  on  the 
dresser,  went  slowly  up  the  creaking  old  oak  stairs  that 
led  from  the  kitchen  to  his  bedroom,  treading  as  softly 
as  he  could,  fearing  lest  he  should  disturb  Barbara  and 
Tom,  although  they  slept  in  an  entirely  different  wing 
of  the  old  building. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

As  Michael  left  the  mill  he  had  to  pass  the  west  gable, 
and,  to  his  surprise,  he  perceived  Barbara  standing  in 
the  moonlight,  which  shone  down  upon  her  pale  face. 
She  started  violently  as  she  saw  him,  and  in  a  moment 
he  realised  where  his  duty  lay.  Was  it  right  that  this 
pure  girl  should  be  kept  in  ignorance  of  the  miscon- 
struction that  had  been  placed  upon  the  sentiments 
that  she  had  expressed  to  Mabel?  for  that  it  was  a  mis- 
construction he  had  not  a  single  doubt.  Was  it  right 
that  she  should  be  exposed  to  the  risk  attendant  upon 
these  words  being  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and 
thereby  becoming  grossly  exaggerated?  No!  no! 

Stopping,  he  raised  his  cap,  saying,  "  Good  evening, 
Miss  Barbara.  I  see  you  are  enjoying  the  glorious 
night." 

Barbara  raised  her  eyes  to  his,  and  Michael  saw  that 
there  were  the  marks  of  tears  on  her  cheek,  and  a 
great  tender  pity  rose  within  him,  and  a  fierce,  almost 
uncontrollable  longing  to  take  her  in  his  arms  and  to 
kiss  those  tear-marks  away. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  was  enjoying  the  evening  air, 
and  thinking." 

"Thinking?  I  trust  your  thoughts  were  not  un- 
happy ;  but  perhaps "  noticing  that  her  eyes  were 

slowly  filling,  and  her  lips  beginning  to  tremble,  "  I 
mean — I  must  not  ask — I  have  not  the  right,  and  I  beg 
your  pardon  for  my  stupid  remark." 

A  wan  little  smile  flitted  over  Barbara's  face  as  she 

285 


286  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

replied,  "  You  have  said  nothing  for  which  you  need 
ask  my  pardon,  Dr.  Lloyd.  My  thoughts  were  both 
sad  and  happy  ones.  I  was  thinking  of  my  darling 
mother.  I  miss  her  so  much,  and  yet — and  yet — I  am 
so  glad  that  she  is  happy  and  free  from  pain  now,  at 
all  events." 

"  Yes,  she  is  free  from  pain ;  and  look  here,  Miss 
Barbara,  my  thoughts  to-night  are  sad,  too,  and  I 
want  to  tell  them  to  you,  for  they  concern  you 
nearly." 

"Me?  Concern  me?"  said  Barbara,  and  she  flushed 
a  little.  "  Surely,  Dr.  Lloyd,  I  ought  to  feel  grateful," 
and  again  that  wistful  smile  broke  the  proud,  immobile 
curve  of  her  lips. 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  you  need  be  gratified,"  said 
Michael,  ruefully.  "  For  my  own  part  I  think  it  is 
only  right  that  I  should  speak  of  them  to  you — but  is 
Tom  inside?  " 

"  No !  I  really  only  came  to  the  door  to  see  if  there 
was  any  sign  of  him,  and  the  lovely  moon  laid  her  spell 
upon  me,  and  kept  me  here  longer  than  I  had  intended. 
Tom  has  gone  to  see  Mr.  Preece,  who  sent  for  him 
about  an  hour  ago." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  as  well,"  said  Michael.  "  Look  here, 
as  he  has  not  yet  returned,  will  you  come  a  little  way 
through  the  wood  with  me?  He  can  only  come  by  that 
road,  and  if  we  don't  meet  him  soon  I  will  bring  you 
safely  back  again." 

"It  is  rather  late,"  answered  the  girl;  "but  as  the 
night  is  so  glorious,  I  will  come  just  a  very  little  way, 
but  I  must  first  fetch  a  shawl  to  throw  over  my  head," 
and  she  went  into  the  house. 

In  a  few  minutes  she  returned,  the  diaphanous, 
cloudy  material  which  she  had  designated  a  shawl 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          287 

making  her  look  more  fragile  and  ethereal  than  before, 
and  they  walked  along  the  little  narrow  pathway 
across  the  green  that  led  to  the  edge  of  the  wood. 

As  they  entered  the  leafy  glade  the  road  widened, 
and  Michael,  who  had  pondered  as  to  how  he  should 
broach  the  subject  that  so  occupied  his  mind,  turned 
to  his  companion,  and  said  suddenly,  "  Miss  Barbara ! 
I  have  been  rather  troubled  lately,  relative  to  that  little 
bottle  of  medicine  I  gave  you  to  administer  to  your 
mother  during  those  dreadful  paroxysms  of  pain  that 
she  endured  towards  the  end.  I  trust  you  destroyed 
its  contents,  for  it  was  very  powerful,  and  it  would  be 
a  dangerous  thing  if  left  lying  about,  and  if  found  by 
anyone  who  was  not  forewarned  as  to  its  qualities. 
Now,  as  you  know,  old  Peggy  Jerry  loves  to  taste 
every  kind  of  medicine  that  is  prescribed  for  friends 
of  hers  who  may  be  ill,  believing  as  she  does  that  the 
more  the  different  kinds  of  medicines  she  takes,  the 
more  unlikely  she  is  to  contract  the  illness  they  are  sup- 
posed to  be  efficacious  for.  I  therefore  want  to  put 
temptation  out  of  the  way,  but  it  is  quite  possible,  of 
course,  that  the  bottle  may  be  lying  at  the  bottom  of 
some  trunk  or  other  at  the  mill,  amongst  the  many 
other  little  odds  and  ends  you  must  have  brought  with 
you  from  Caefran.  If  you  do  not  mind — that  is  to 
say — if  you  cannot  remember  throwing  it  away,  would 
you  oblige  me  by  doing  so  at  the  earliest  possible 
moment  ?  " 

Whilst  Michael  was  speaking,  Barbara  felt  as  if 
every  drop  of  blood  had  receded  from  her  face,  leaving 
it  cold  as  death  itself,  but  she  gradually  regained  her 
equanimity,  and  as  Michael  ceased,  she  suddenly  stood 
still,  and,  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm,  said,  "  Dr. 
Lloyd?" 


288  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  Yes,"  answered  Michael,  surprised  at  the  reflection 
of  her  voice. 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  you.  After  I  have  told 
you,  I  wonder  what  you  will  think  of  me?  I  have  not 
got  that  bottle.  I  did  not  bring  it  with  me  to  the  old! 
mill,  for  when  we  left  Caefran,  there  was  very  little 
left  in  it." 

"Very  little,  Miss  Barbara,  but  how  could  that  be? 
There  was  sufficient  in  that  bottle  for  a  dozen  doses. 
I  only  gave  your  poor  mother  one  dose  myself  from  it, 
and  I  believe  she  had  only  one  bad  paroxysm  after- 
wards." 

"  Oh,  dear,  no !  but  I  did  not  give  her  any  more  of 
the  medicine  till  the  last  awful  pain  came  on." 

"  Well,  then,  you  only  gave  her  one  more  dose.  In 
such  case,  what  became  of  the  rest  of  the  contents  of 
the  bottle,  if,  as  you  say,  there  was  very  little  of  it 
left?  " 

"  That  last  dose  I  gave  her  was  a  teaspoonful  of  the 
medicine,"  said  Barbara,  slowly,  her  eyes  fixed  stead- 
fastly upon  Michael's  face,  watching  the  effect  of  her 
words. 

"  You  gave  her  a  teaspoonful  of  that  medicine  in  one 
dose!  Surely  you  cannot  mean  what  you  say!  Do 
you  know  what  the  consequence  of  such  an  action  would 
be?  No!  you  cannot  know — for  if  you  did " 

"Well,  Dr.  Lloyd,  supposing  I  did  know — what 
then?" 

"You  would  have  deliberately  killed  your  mother," 
replied  Michael. 

"  I  was  perfectly  aware  of  the  consequences  of  what 
I  was  doing,  and  God  knows  that  what  I  did,  I  did  for 
the  best,  and  I  am  so  glad,  oh,  so  glad,  that  I  did  it — 
for  I  gave  her  that  peace  which  the  world  cannot  give, 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          289 

Dr.  Lloyd,  and  I  am  sure  that  if  my  darling  mother 
is  looking  down  on  us  now,  and  can  hear  what  I  am 
saying,  she  knows  the  motive  that  prompted  my  action, 
aye,  and  blesses  me  for  it  too !  " 

Barbara  spoke  with  intense  emotion,  but  Michael 
did  not  answer.  This  revelation  had  come  as  a  "  bolt 
from  the  blue."  His  heart  felt  as  if  it  would  burst 
from  his  body — he  felt  a  choking  sensation  in  his 
throat,  and  lifted  his  hand  mechanically  to  his  collar. 

"  Good  God!  "  was  all  he  could  say—"  Good  God!  " 

"  Yes ;  God  "was  good  to  me  and  to  my  mother  too, 
for  He  showed  me  how  to  open  those  glorious  portals 
for  her,  and  how  to  spare  her  dear  body  from  any  more 
of  that  dreadful  agony,  and  that,  you  doctors,  with  all 
your  vaunted  skill,  cannot  do." 

Barbara's  words  burst  vehemently  from  her  lips. 
They  rushed  forth  as  a  streamlet  bubbles  and  tumbles 
into  the  cool  fresh  air  from  the  breasts  of  the  hill  that 
gave  it  birth.  Suddenly  she  stopped  speaking,  and,  as 
if  by  common  impulse,  both  she  and  Michael  stood  still. 
The  great  woods  around  them  were  silent — the  calm 
moon  gleamed  down  pityingly  between  the  tree-tops 
as  if  commiserating  with  the  hearts  so  torn  with  con- 
flicting emotions.  In  the  solemn  hush  around  it  seemed 
as  if  something  was  going  to  happen — to  break  the 
tension  so  intense.  Not  a  sound  disturbed  the  eternal 
silence  of  the  night  save  the  whispering  of  the  fir  trees 
around  them,  as  if  they  were  telling  one  another  in 
hushed  tones  of  the  mental  agony  these  two  were  en- 
during. Suddenly,  in  the  distance,  a  nightingale 
burst  into  song — the  clear  notes  issuing  from  its  little 
throat  with  a  sweetness  indescribable.  Barbara  started 
and  looked  at  Michael,  who  was  standing  with  bowed 
head.  As  if  drawn  by  a  magnet,  his  eyes  met  hers, 


290  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

and  as  in  a  flash  of  lightning  she  realised  what  she  had 
said,  and  how  by  her  own  words  she  had  confessed  to  a 
deed  for  which  in  the  cold,  pitiless  eyes  of  the  world 
there  was  no  extenuation.  She  was  a  murderess! 
Essylt  was  right !  She  had  taken  a  life  that  God  only 
had  the  right  to  dispose  of,  and  now,  and  now — oh 
God! — the  thought  was  intolerable — she  had  lost  Mi- 
chael for  ever — aye,  so  long  as  they  both  should  live 
he  would  regard  her  as  one  unclean — as  one  whose 
hands  were  red  with  the  blood  of  one  near  and  dear  to 
her.  Her  mind  was  benumbed,  and,  with  a  little  moan, 
she  turned  suddenly  away,  and  retraced  her  steps 
towards  the  mill.  She  had  not  gone  far,  however,  be- 
fore she  felt  a  hand  laid  quietly  on  her  arm.  She  knew 
whose  it  was,  and  withdrew  her  arm  from  that  gentle 
touch — in  itself  almost  a  caress. 

"  Dr.  Lloyd,"  she  said,  proudly  and  calmly,  although 
within  her  breast  a  very  tornado  of  passion  lay, 
"  please  leave  me  to  myself ;  I  am  close  home  and  need 
no  assistance." 

Michael  made  no  reply,  but  Barbara  felt  rather  than 
saw  that  he  respected  her  wish  then,  as  always.  She 
stumbled  on  blindly,  scarce  seeing  the  pathway  before 
her,  and  in  a  few  moments  reached  the  mill.  She 
fumbled  for  the  handle  of  the  door  and  opened  it,  but 
before  entering  turned  once  more  to  look  back  at  the 
man  she  loved  so  well.  She  could  not  see  him,  for  he 
was  on  his  knees  in  the  wood  praying  to  his  Creator, 
with  all  the  fervour  of  a  strong  man  whose  faith  is 
unshaken,  to  show  him  some  light  in  the  darkness  with 
which  his  spirit  was  surrounded. 

Barbara's  first  impulse  was  to  regain  her  room.  She 
was  shivering  with  a  bitter  cold,  but  it  was  the  cold- 
ness as  of  death,  not  of  nature,  that  gripped  her  heart 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          291 

with  its  icy  fingers.  The  next  moment  she  burned  with 
indignation ;  her  pride,  which  she  thought  was  dead, 
was  wounded  to  the  quick.  Why?  For  behind  it  lay 
the  cruel  thought  that  what  she  had  said,  what  she 
had  done,  was  true — that  she  could  deny  nothing. 
She  had  passed  through  a  tornado  of  suffering  al- 
ready, but  this  was  more  than  she  could  bear!  and  she 
threw  herself  on  her  little  white  bed,  listening  and  yet 
not  hearing  the  owls  hooting  in  the  gable  outside  her 
window.  How  long  she  lay  there  she  knew  not,  but 
she  started  up  in  affright  when  she  heard  the  outer 
door  open,  and  Tom's  cheery  voice  call,  "  Barbara ! 
where  are  you,  old  girl?  " 

"I  am  coming  down  now,  dear,"  she  managed  to 
answer,  her  voice  sounding  to  her  as  if  far  away,  and 
she  groped  her  way  downstairs  slowly  and  heavily. 

"Why,  Barbara,  surely  not  off  to  bed,  were  you? 
Why,  it  is  only  eleven  now — by  Jove,  it's  nearly 
twelve !  "  said  Tom,  looking  at  his  watch.  "  But  what's 
the  matter?  You  look  as  if  you  were  only  half  awake." 

"  I  am  quite  awake,  dear — I  wish  to  God  I  were 
not,"  was  her  reply,  which  to  Tom  was  perfectly 
enigmatical. 

"  Come  here,  dear,  and  sit  on  the  settle  and  warm 
yourself,"  and  he  took  her  cold  hand  in  his  and  pressed 
it  lovingly. 

"  I  will  give  you  your  supper  first,  Tom,  and  then, 
dear,  I  want  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you." 

"All  right,  but  don't  keep  me  up  too  long,  there's 
a  dear.  The  drive  in  the  moonlight  has  made  me 
sleepy,"  and  he  yawned  ostentatiously. 

Whilst  Tom  was  discussing  his  supper,  Barbara  sat 
with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  glowing  culm  fire.  Had  she 
done  rightly?  she  wondered.  Was  there  a  chance  that 


292  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

her  mother  would  have  lived  on  with  them,  had  she 
(Barbara)  not  so  impulsively  given  her  that  soothing 
draught,  which  caused  her  pure  spirit  to  glide  so  easily 
and  smoothly  from  its  bitter  pain  to  the  peace  beyond? 

No!  Try  as  she  would,  the  thought  would  recur; 
that  what  she  had  done  was  right.  Right !  yes ;  but 
what  would  other  people  say  about  her  action?  What 
would  Michael  say?  and  with  this  last  thought  the  con- 
viction thrust  itself  upon  her  that  by  her  own  action — 
her  own  words — she  had  to-night  put  away  from  her 
all  hopes  of  future  happiness  and  joy. 

"  Well,  dear,  I  am  ready ;  what  is  it  you  want  to  tell 
me?  "  said  Tom,  as,  rising  from  the  table,  he  came  and 
sat  in  the  corner  of  the  old  oak  settle  near  the  fire, 
groping  on  the  mantelpiece  for  his  pipe  and  tobacco. 

"  Tom,  dear,  I  saw  Dr.  Lloyd  about  an  hour  ago. 
He  had  been  to  see  his  father,  and  I  was  standing  at 
the  door  in  the  moonlight,  watching  for  your  return." 

"Yes!  And  what  then?"  said  Tom,  a  quizzical 
smile  breaking  over  his  face.  "  Was  he  such  an  ogre 
that  he  frightened  you  by  his  sudden  appearance 
round  the  corner?  " 

"No,  dear!  He  did  not  frighten  me.  He  stopped 
and  spoke  to  me,  and  I  walked  a  little  way  with  him 
to  meet  you.  It  was  I  startled  him,  not  he,  me." 

"  You  are  not  so  very  terrifying  in  looks,  either," 
said  Master  Tom,  cocking  his  head  on  one  side  and 
gazing  at  his  sister. 

"  No,  dear,  I  don't  mean  that.  I — I  frightened  him 
in  another  way.  He — he  asked  me  to  destroy  the  con- 
tents of  the  little  bottle  of  medicine  he  gave  me  to  ease 
dear  mother's  pain ;  you  remember  it,  no  doubt  ?  " 

Tom  was  now  all  alertness,  and  gazed  meditatively 
into  the  fire. 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          293 

"Yes,  dear?"  he  said  slowly,  and  bent  forward  and 
stroked  her  hand  encouragingly. 

"  Well !  I  told  him  I  had  not  got  it — and — and — oh ! 
Tom,  darling,  I  suppose  he  will  mention  it  to  you 
sooner  or  later.  I  told  him  that  I  gave  a  teaspoonful 
of  the  sedative  to  darling  mother  when  she  was  in  such 
dreadful  pain.  At  the  time  I  could  not  bear  it,  Tom, 
I  could  not,  indeed ;  but  now  I  see  what  I  have  done — 
I  have  killed  our  own  sweet  mother,  when  perhaps  she 
might  have  recovered.  Tom,  dear,  I  did  it  all  for  the 
best ;  I  could  not  bear  to  see  her  suffer,  but  what  shall 
I  do? — what  shall  I  do?  "  and  the  broken-hearted  girl 
went  down  on  her  knees  and  laid  her  head  on  his  lap, 
sobbing  convulsively. 

Tom  said  not  a  word ;  his  lips  were  hard  set,  his  face 
wore  a  strained  and  harassed  look,  strange  in  one  so 
young;  there  was  a  dead  silence,  broken  only  by  the 
sound  of  Barbara's  muffled  crying.  His  pipe  had  gone 
out,  but  he  still  held  at  mechanically  between  his  lips. 
He  was  thinking  deeply. 

Well!  Now  Michael  knew  it!  and  God  help  them 
all!  A  great  tenderness  for  Barbara  rose  within  him. 
She,  his  dear  little  sister,  who  had  throughout  the 
whole  of  her  life  adored  their  mother,  as  indeed  he 
himself  had,  with  a  passionate  devotion,  almost  amount- 
ing to  idolatry.  What  had  it  led  her  to?  In  her 
innocence  of  heart  she  had  done  that  which  a  man, 
more  dispassionately  as  he  is  wont  to  review  the  con- 
sequence of  a  rash  action,  would  have  shrunk  from 
doing,  and  yet  he — Tom — could  not  blame  her.  In 
her  great  love  she  had  given  her  mother  relief  from 
agony.  That  was  the  sum  total  of  her  wrongdoing, 
and  he  and  Michael  Lloyd,  between  them,  must  shelter 
her,  if  possible,  from  the  effects  of  that  wrongdoing. 


294.  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

He  caught  his  breath  sharply,  a  dry  sob  arose  In  his 
throat,  and  a  great  tear  splashed  heavily  on  Barbara's 
hair. 

She  put  her  hand  out,  and  he  laid  his  own  large  one 
over  it,  caressingly,  protectingly. 

"  Barbara,  darling ! "  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  listen 
to  me.  Why  did  you  tell  Michael?  Don't  you  know" 
* — and  here  his  voice  rose  slightly — "  that  his  preju- 
dices, as  a  doctor,  are  stronger  than  those  of  most 
people,  and  that  you  have  placed  him  in  a  most 
painful,  a  most  awful,  position?  Oh,  why  did  you  not 
come  to  me  first,  and  ask  my  opinion  before  confiding 
so  recklessly  in  Michael?  Poor  fellow,  he  is  staunch  as 
steel,  but  what  view  he  will  take  of  the  matter  I  know 
not." 

Barbara  raised  her  head  and  looked  at  Tom  ear- 
nestly, and  in  those  glorious  eyes,  now  brimming  over 
with  tears,  Tom  read  the  unspoken  answer  to  this 
question. 

"  God  help  you — and  him ! "  was  all  he  said.  "  Look 
here,  Barbara,  I  am  going  to  Maentrevor  to  see  him. 
I  must  see  him,  and  at  once,  too.  I  will  send  Peggy  in 
to  keep  you  company.  I  shall  not  be  gone  much  over 
an  hour,  and  in  all  probability  I  will  bring  Michael 
back  with  me,  if  he  has  not  gone  out  again  into  the 
country,"  and  he  rose,  gently  lifting  her  to  her  feet. 

Barbara  was  still  crying  softly,  and  as  Tom  put  his 
arms  round  her,  she  clung  convulsively  to  him. 

"  Oh,  Tom,  dear,  don't  leave  me  here  to-night  alone ! 
I  could  not  bear  it — indeed,  I  could  not." 

"  Nonsense,  Barbara,"  he  answered.  "  This  matter 
has  to  be  faced  out — and  at  once ;  but  God  only  knows 
what  the  issue  will  be.  Michael  is  level-headed  and 
strong,  and  I  know  he  will  advise  us  what  to  do. 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          295 

i 

Peggy,  too,  has  plenty  of  sense,  and  between  us,  dear, 
we  will  do  what  is  best.  You  may  depend  upon  that 
at  all  events,"  and  he  tried  to  smile  cheerfully,  but  it 
was  only  a  parody  for  a  smile  that  came. 

"  Barbara,  darling !  Let  us  kneel  here  once  together 
and  ask  for  help  from  One  whose  pitying  eye  is  upon 
us  now."  They  both  sank  to  their  knees,  and  whilst 
the  culm  fire  glowed  steadily  on,  the  old  clock  ticked 
in  the  corner,  the  owls  "  tu-whooed "  softly  in  the 
gables,  and  the  placid  moon  cast  her  silvery  beams 
on  the  diamond-framed  window,  the  prayers  of  two 
stricken  souls  ascended  to  God. 

After  some  moments  they  rose  to  their  feet,  and 
Tom,  putting  his  arms  round  his  sister,  said:  "I  feel 
better  now,  dear,  and  I  have  an  inward  conviction  that 
there  must  be  some  horrible  mistake  somewhere,  and 
that  God — yes,  and  darling  mother  too,  will  help  us 
and  show  us  some  way  out." 

"  There  is  no  mistake,  Tom,  dear.  There  is  no  mis- 
take," and  with  another  little  sob  Barbara  sat  down 
on  the  settle. 

"  Well !  remain  here,  dear,  and  Peggy  will  be  with 
you  in  a  very  few  minutes.  Good-bye  for  the  present, 
and  God  bless  you  and  guard  you ! "  He  kissed  her 
fervently  and  went  swiftly  and  silently  out. 

How  long  Barbara  sat  there  alone  she  knew  not, 
but  she  was  awakened  from  her  sad  and  bitter  self- 
reproach  by  a  low  knock  at  the  door,  followed  by  a 
well-known  "  ahem ! "  and  before  she  could  collect  her 
thoughts  sufficiently  to  invite  entrance,  the  door  opened 
and  Peggy  appeared,  clad  in  the  most  weird-looking 
costume  it  is  possible  to  imagine.  From  her  waist 
downwards  she  wore  a  black-and-red  flannel  petticoat, 
much  frayed  at  the  edges;  in  places,  strips  of  it  were 


296  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

hanging  down,  one  indeed  trailing  on  the  ground  as 
she  walked ;  round  her  shoulders  she  had  thrown  an  old 
coat  which  had  once  belonged  to  Phil-y-Velin,  its 
original  dark  hue  quite  obliterated  by  the  dust  from 
the  corn-bins  which  seemed  to  have  settled  permanently 
in  the  woof  of  the  cloth.  On  her  head  was  a  red  woollen 
nightcap  with  a  white  frill;  on  her  feet  were  what  had 
once  been  stockings,  but  from  which  now  the  half  of 
her  feet  protruded  unblushingly,  and  the  whole  made 
up  a  never-to-be-forgotten  picture.  Barbara  could 
hardly  help  laughing  through  her  tears  as  she 
beckoned  to  the  old  woman  to  come  and  sit  beside 
her. 

"Well,  merch-i — and  what's  the  matter?  Indeed, 
indeed,  there's  frightened  I  was  when  Master  Tom 
called  me.  I  thought  it  was  a  bwci*  trying  to  play  a 
trick  on  old  Peggy  whatever,  when  I  heard  the  knock 
at  the  door." 

"  I  am  so  sorry,  Peggy  ixicTi,  that  you  should  be 
disturbed  at  this  hour  of  the  night,  but  Tom  has  gone 
to  Maentrevor  to  see  Dr.  Lloyd,  and  I  was  lonely  all 
by  myself," 

"  Wrfh  cwrs,-f  Miss  vdch — and  who  should  you  call 
but  old  Peggy,  eh?  Tell  me  that,"  and  she  sat  down 
on  a  low  three-legged  stool  in  front  of  the  fire.  "  But 
what's  the  matter?  Is  Master  Tom  ill,  or  are  you?" 
and  she  peered  up  anxiously  into  Barbara's  face. 

"  I  am  ill,  Peggy — no,  not  as  you  mean,"  as  the  old 
woman  rose  to  her  feet  as  hastily  as  she  could ;  "  ill  in 
mind,  I  mean,  not  body." 

"  Then  why  do  you  send  for  Dr.  Lloyd?  Never 
heard  tell  that  he  could  mend  souls  as  well  as  bodies," 
said  Peggy  shrewdly. 

*  Ghost,         Of  course. 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          297 

"  I  did  not  send  for  him,  Peggy.  Tom  said  he  must 
go  and  fetch  him  here  at  once." 

"  Fetch  him   here !      Goodness    gracious " 

"  Yes !  Fetch  him  here.  Oh,  Peggy,  Peggy,  I  am 
in  great  trouble,"  and  to  the  old  woman's  consterna- 
tion she  burst  into  a  paroxysm  of  weeping. 

"  Dir  anwl!  Dir  anwl!  What  is  it,  then?  Come, 
tell  old  Peggy  all  about  it,  merch-i.  Is  it  the  '  room- 
atis'  or  something  like  that?  Yes!  that's  it,  after  all 
the  standing  about  in  the  cold  you  been.  I  can 
soon  mend  that,  I  can  tell  you.  Griffy  Saer  had  it 
bad  last  winter,  and  Dr.  Rees  gave  him  something  that 
mend  him  in  no  time.  I  got  some  in  my  room  which 
I  took  from  Griffy's  bottle,  and  I  will  go  and  fetch  it." 

She  was  turning  towards  the  door,  when  Barbara 
stopped  her,  saying,  "  No,  Peggy,  not  that." 

"  Then  do  tell  me,  Miss  Vach,  and  don't  'ee  cry.  Be 
bound  we  will  soon  get  you  all  right  again."  Peggy's 
dim  old  eyes  were  gazing  wistfully,  lovingly  at  Bar- 
bara, and  something  impelled  her — what  she  knew 
not — to  tell  the  whole  tale  to  those  sympathetic  ears. 

"Peggy,  Peggy!  This  is  what  is  the  matter  with 
me.  You  know  how  dearly  I  loved  my  mother,  and 
how  I  could  not  bear  to  see  her  in  pain  at  any 
time?" 

"  Iss,  merch-i,  I  remember.  When  you  were  both 
bappas*  so  high,"  and  she  held  her  hand  close  to  the 
floor,  "  if  mestress  scratched  her  finger  you  and  Master 
Tom  use  to  cry  bitter.  You  use  to  turn  round  and 
hold  the  mestrees'  hand  out  to  me  and  say,  *  Iss  there 
any  blood,  Peggy?'  And  I  use  to  say  'Yes,  Miss 
v&ch,'  and  then  you  use  to  ask  if  it  was  '  led  blood,' 
and  if  I  said  *  Yes  '  again,  oh,  how  you  both  cry,  awful, 

*  Babies. 


298  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

and  how  mestress  and  I  would  laff ! "  and  Peggy 
chuckled  to  herself. 

"  Well,  Peggy,"  continued  Barbara,  "  when  darling 
mother  was  taken  so  ill,  I  used  to  sit  and  pray — oh, 
how  I  prayed,  that  she  would  be  spared  from  much 
pain,  and  then  those  awful  fits  came  on  " — Peggy 
nodded  vehemently — "  and  Dr.  Lloyd  brought  me  that 
bottle  of  medicine  to  give  her  only  when  the  pain  was 
unbearable  " — Peggy  nodded  again — "  and  then — 
and  then — I  saw  that  nothing  would  ever  cure  her, 
and — and — I  gave  her  a  lot  out  of  the  bottle  at  once, 
Peggy,  and — she  died.  And,  oh!  I  felt  so  glad  that 
I  was  the  means  of  stopping  her  pain,  and  of  letting 
her  go  to  God,  who  was  calling  her — when  the  doctors 
could  do  her  no  good.  And,  now,  after  all  these 
months,  I  see  how  wrong  and  wicked  I  have  been,  and 
how  I  ought  to  have  let  God  work  His  own  will  on 
her,  and  ought  not  to  have  interfered  with  His  work; 
and,  perhaps,  if  I  had  been  brave  enough,  darling 
mother  would  have  got  over  those  dreadful  attacks, 
and  I  should  not  have  been  the  cause  of  her  death." 

Poor  Barbara  by  this  time  was  in  a  pitiful  state  of 
collapse,  and  sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 
Peggy  got  safely  up  from  her  stool  again,  and  sat 
on  the  settle  beside  her. 

"  Merch  vdch-i!  My  dear  mestress  and  God  both 
know  now  that  you  did  not  mean  to  kill  her — and  look 
here,  Miss  vdch.  Are  you  certain  sure  that  what  you 
gave  the  mestress  did  kill  her?  No,  Miss  vdch.  It  is 
no  use  telling  me.  You  would  never  have  done  that,  I 
know.  My  little  gel !  and  is  this  why  your  cheeks  have 
grown  so  white  this  long  time?  Oh!  if  old  Peggy 
knew,  you  should  not  be  so  miserable." 

"  But,  Peggy  darling,"  and  here  Barbara  put  her 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          299 

arms  round  the  old  woman's  neck  and  sobbed  unre- 
strainedly," "  I  did  kill  her — yes,  and  meant  to  kill 
her,  too." 

"  Hush !  Miss  vdch.  What  you  did,  you  did  for  the 
best,  and  God  will  not  blame  you  for  that.  Look  you ! 
I  will  make  you  a  nice  cup  of  tea  now,  and  you  will 
drink  it  like  a  good  little  gel.  It  will  do  you  a  world  of 
good,  and  don't  you  vex,"  and  Peggy  made  as  if  to 
rise. 

"  No,  Peggy  vach — it  would  choke  me.  Not  vex  ? 
What  do  you  mean?  Wouldn't  you  vex  if  you  had 
done  what  I  have?  " 

"  Well,  then !  let  me  stum  the  fire.  It  iss  going  down, 
and  you  will  get  cold,  and  old  Peggy  and  you  will  sit 
together  till  Master  Tom  and  Maychael  Lloyd  come 
back,"  and  managing  to  free  herself  gently  from  Bar- 
bara's detaining  grasp,  Peggy  inserted  the  small  bent 
poker  in  the  little  round  hole  that  glowed  so  brightly 
at  the  top  of  the  culm  fire,  and  turned  it  round  and 
round  meditatively. 

"  Come  you  now,  and  sit  quiet  for  a  minit,  while  I  go 
and  find  my  docs.  I  won't  be  a  minit,  no,  indeed, 
miss,"  andl  unheeding  Barbara's  expostulations  she 
shuffled  out  of  the  room,  soon  returning  and  sitting 
down  again  at  Barbara's  side.  "Well,  merch-il  Let's 
sing  *  Yn  y  dyfroedd.'  It  will  do  us  both  good — eh ! 
Miss  vdch?  "  " 

"  Oh !  Peggy,  I  can't  sing." 

'**  Well,  then !  I  can,  and  I  will,  too,"  and  Barbara 
nestled  once  more  into  Peggy's  protecting  arms,  whilst 
the  latter  in  thin  quavering  tones  began  that  grandest 
of  old  Welsh  hymns.  The  rhythm  rose  and  fell  with  a 
pathos  indescribable,  and  as  the  last  line  died  away 
into  silence  Peggy  looked  at  the  sweet  face  resting  on 


300  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

her  shoulder,  and  perceived  that  the  old  melody  had 
lulled  Barbara  to  sleep.  The  long  lashes  lay  on  the 
curved  cheeks,  and  in  the  flickering  light  of  the  fire 
Peggy  saw  that  the  tears  were  still  welling  from  under- 
neath them,  showing  that  even  Nature's  sweet  restorer 
was  unable  fully  to  enact  its  accustomed  role  and  to 
bring  absolute  forgetfulness  to  the  tired  spirit. 

The  fire  burned  slowly  down  and  the  old  clock  ticked 
solemnly  on,  and  Peggy  still  moved  not,  but  with  her 
old  withered  cheek  laid  against  Barbara's  hair,  she 
too  gradually  slipped  into  slumber.  She  heard  not, 
therefore,  the  firm  steps  that  walked  up  to  the  door- 
way just  as  the  pale  dawn  appeared  in  the  east,  nor 
did  she  hear  the  latch  quietly  lifted.  Tom  and  Mi- 
chael, for  it  was  they,  stopped  instinctively  on  the 
threshold,  and  the  former  tiptoed  across  to  the  fire- 
place, beckoning  to  his  companion  to  do  likewise,  and 
they  stood  for  some  moments  gazing  at  the  picture 
before  them.  Michael  passed  his  hand  furtively  across 
his  eyes  and  then  whispered,  "  We  must  not  let  them 
sleep  here  any  more,  Tom.  It  is  getting  quite  chilly." 
Tom  nodded,  and  laid  his  hand  gently  on  Peggy's 
sleeve.  She  opened  her  eyes,  and  for  a  moment,  not 
recognising  the  intruders,  instinctively  drew  Barbara 
into  a  closer  embrace,  as  if  to  shield  her  from  some  un- 
known danger;  then,  as  the  realisation  of  her  sur- 
roundings returned  to  her,  she  lifted  a  warning  finger, 
saying  in  a  low  voice,  "  Hisht,  machgen-i,  let  her  sleep 
on.  She  will  be  calmer  when  she  awakes." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Michael,  "  we  must  talk  with  her — 
and  now.  Has  she  told  you  anything,  Peggy?  " 

*'  Wrth  cwrs,"  said  Peggy  in  an  indignant  tone  of 
voice,  "  she  has  told  me  everything.  Who  else  could 
she  tell  but  me,  eh?  " 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          301 

Michael  smiled  indulgently  and  pointed  to  Barbara, 
who  stirred  uneasily.  She  opened  her  eyes  wonder- 
ingly;  then,  as  Michael  moved  slightly  forward,  recol- 
lection returned  to  her,  and  her  eyes  grew  dark  and 
troubled,  and  a  little  moan  issued  from  her  lips,  and  a 
shiver  passed  through  her  frame. 

"  Look  you,  Master  Tom,  and  you  too,  Maychael 
Lloyd — if  you  think  you  iss  come  to  worry  Miss  vdch 
again  now,  after  you  bin  away  all  this  time,  you  iss 
wrong,  see!  Diwss  anwl!  There's  old  Bensha,  my 
cock,  crying  for  iss  brekwas " — as  a  defiant  clarion 
note  resounded  through  the  morning  air.  "  In  my  deed, 
I'm  thinkin'  we  all  want  brekwas.  Beth  yttfr  gloch,"* 
continued  Peggy,  relapsing  into  her  mother-tongue, 
as  she  sometimes  did  when  excitement  prohibited  her 
from  speaking  English. 

"  I  see  we  shall  get  nothing  done  while  Peggy  is  in 
this  mood,"  said  Tom  to  Michael.  "  I  suppose  we  had 
better  do  what  she  desires,  for  we  shall  not  have  any 
peace  otherwise." 

"  Oh,  all  right,  but  I  really  think  Miss  Barbara 
should  go  to  bed  now.  She  will  never  be  able  to  stand 
the  strain  much  longer,  unless  we  can  do  something1 
for  her,"  answered  Michael,  sotto  voce. 

Peggy's  quick  ears  caught  the  portent  of  the  mut- 
tered words,  and  turning  to  Michael  said,  *'  Ach-y-fi, 
Maychael  Lloyd,  I  was  think  that  mayself,  but  you 
was  always  *  sassy."  You  iss  not  everybody  no  more 
nor  me." 

Michael  shrugged  his  shoulders,  saying,  "  Let  us 
go  out,  Tom,  while  Peggy  takes  your  sister  up  to  bed." 

As  they  opened  the  door  the  cold  morning  air  struck 
sharply  on  their  cheeks,  for  there  was  a  suspicion  of 

*  "  What  o'clock  is  it?  " 


302  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

frost  in  the  air.  Under  the  eaves  the  sparrows  were 
twittering  briskly  to  one  another,  and  the  tops  of  the 
trees  were  illumined  by  a  faint,  very  faint,  pink  glow, 
that  gradually  eliminated  the  bright  eyes  of  the  stars 
above  them.  Their  eyelids  were  heavy  with  sleep,  for 
the  Goddess  had  not  closed  their  eyes  during  the  past 
night,  and  now,  as  they  gazed  at  the  awakening  glory 
of  the  dawn,  a  silence  profound  fell  upon  them.  A 
rabbit  hopped  out  of  the  leafy  glades  of  the  wood,  and 
scurried  hastily  across  the  green  sward  close  to  where 
the  two  men  were  standing.  Then,  as  if  ashamed  of 
her  fear,  peeped  out  again,  and  realising  that  they 
meant  her  no  harm,  started  feeding  on  the  sweet  grass 
now  bending  its  blades  heavy  with  dewdrops  as  in 
adoration  to  the  rising  glory. 

A  heavy  sigh  from  Tom  broke  the  silence,  and  Mi- 
chael turned  and  saw  the  big  tears  slowly  coursing 
down  his  cheeks.  Tom  pointed  silently  to  the  sun  now 
just  visible  over  the  tree-tops,  and  murmured  huskily, 
while  dashing  his  hand  across  his  eyes,  "I  would  to 
God,  Michael,  that  that  were  a  good  omen  for  us ! " 

"  Perhaps  it  is,  Tom,  old  fellow.  Buck  up,  and  look 
this  horrible  matter  full  in  the  face  as  I  am  trying  to 
do.  Tom,  old  man,"  and  here  his  voice  took  a  tender 
ring,  "  do  you  know  that  this  calamity  is  as  awful  to 
me  as  it  is  to  you?  Do  you  know  that  I  would  give  up 
all  hopes  of  advancement  in  this  world  to  make  your 
sister  Barbara  my  wife?  Wait  a  moment,  Tom,"  as 
he  observed  his  companion's  look  of  inquiry.  "  You 
are  wondering  how  this  can  be,  for  you  know  I  was  but 
recently  engaged  to  marry  Essylt  Lewis — that  poor 
girl  who  now  sleeps  in  the  little  churchyard  by  the  sea. 
Well,  it  is  true  that  I  was  engaged  to  her — aye,  and 
would  have  fulfilled  my  promise  probably  by  this  time 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          303 

— but  Tom,  I  was  miserable.  Yes !  You  must  hear  it 
all,  and  then,  perhaps,  your  condemnation  will  not  be 
so  great.  Nearly  nine  years  ago  I  thought  I  loved 
her — whether  she  loved  or  not,  God  only  knows.  At 
all  events,  she  said  she  did — but,  alas !  in  a  little  while 
I  found  out  that  what  at  first  I  had  thought  of  as 
love  on  my  part  was  nothing  but  a  foolish  youth's 
calf-love;  but  through  all  these  years,  Tom,  I  never 
told  her  that  my  feelings  for  her  had  changed,  for  I 
still  think  Essylt  loved  me  in  her  own  way,  and  then, 
Tom,  when,  as  I  thought,  it  was  too  late,  I  met  and 
loved  Barbara." 

"  Did  you  ever  tell  this  to  my  sister?  "  asked  Tom. 

"  No,  I  have  not,  for  it  would  not  have  been  an  hon- 
ourable thing  for  me  to  do.  Then  Providence  inter- 
vened, and  the  way  was  made  clear  for  me  once  more, 
for,  as  you  know,  poor  Essylt  died,  and  although  I 
felt  her  death  keenly — for  we  had  always  been  the  best 
of  friends,  and  my  feelings  of  comradeship  for  her 
had  never  died  out  entirely,  although  the  desire  to 
marry  her  had  long  since  departed — I  used  to  wonder, 
Tom,  at  those  strange  caprices  of  her.  One  moment 
happy  and  playful  and  light  as  a  kitten,  at  another 
petulant  and  passionate  to  a  degree.  I  see  it  all  now, 
but  I  cannot  understand  how  she  hid  all  signs  of  that 
dread  disease  from  us." 

"But  if  you  had  married  her,  Michael?" 

"  As  I  was  saying,  Providence  intervened  in  the  most 
wonderful  manner,  and  prevented  a  consummation  of 
our  engagement.  Poor  Essylt's  sufferings  were  ended, 
and,  God  forgive  me,  I  felt  an  immense  relief  to  think 
that  there  was  nothing  to  prevent  my  speaking  to 
Barbara ;  but  Tom,  old  fellow,  you  know  the  dear  old 
hymn,  *  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way '  ?  Well,  it 


304  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

was  never  more  exemplified  to  me  than  it  is  now.  I 
hoped  and  believed  that  Barbara  loved  me,  and  I  was 
building,  oh,  such  castles  in  Spain,  and  now — and 
now  the  cup  is  dashed  from  my  lips  over  again." 

Tom  held  out  his  hand,  and  Michael  grasped  it,  and 
the  two  young  men,  so  heavily  burdened  with  a  common 
grief,  knew  that  each  fully  sympathised  with  and  un- 
derstood the  other. 

"  Ah !  here  comes  your  father,"  said  Tom,  and  Mi- 
chael turned  to  greet  old  Phil  who,  with  a  look  of 
pleased  surprise,  came  round  the  corner  of  the  build- 
ing. 

"Ah!  I  thought  I  knew  your  voice;  but  what  are 
you  doing  here  so  early,  machgen-i?  Nobody  ill,  is 
there  ?  " — his  rugged  weather-seamed  old  face  assuming 
an  air  of  anxiety.  "  Not  Miss  vach,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  she  is  ill,  father,  but  not  physically — only 
mentally.  Father,  we  are  all  in  great  trouble,  and  as, 
sooner  or  later,  it  will  trouble  you  too,  I  think  I  had 
better  tell  you  now.  Have  you  had  breakfast  yet  ?  " 

"  No,  my  boy,  I  was  wondering  where  Peggy  had 
got  to,  for  she  had  not  put  anything  ready  for  me  this 
morning,  but  the  fire  was  burning  all  right  in  the 
kitchen,  so  I  popped  the  kettle  on  to  boil  and  came 
out  to  smell  the  fir  trees,  for  they  smell  sweeter  in  the 
morning  than  at  any  other  time.  Ah !  but  you  young 
fellows  don't  know  what  you  miss  when  you  lie  in  bed 
in  the  mornings  " — and  he  shook  his  head  reprovingly. 
"  Drat  the  beast ! "  he  said,  throwing  a  pebble  at  the 
rabbit,  which  with  a  contemptuous  flick  of  her  little 
white-tipped  tail  vanished  into  the  brushwood.  "  She 
is  here  every  morning,  and  always  nibbles  the  grass 
with  one  eye  on  the  doorway,  to  see  if  it  is  safe  for 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          305 

her  to  get  at  my  winter  cabbages.  But  what  is  it,  my 
boy?  Be  bound  there's  some  way  out  of  your  trouble." 

Michael  and  Tom  smiled  wearily,  and  the  former 
said,  "  Peggy  is  in  there,"  pointing  to  the  door  just 
behind  them,  "  with  Miss  Owen.  She  is  getting  break- 
fast ready  for  us,  so  come  in  and  have  yours  at  the 
same  time,  if  Tom  does  not  mind." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Tom.  "  Your  father  knows 
how  glad  we  always  are  to  see  him."  Then,  followed  by 
Michael  and  Phil,  the  former  with  his  arm  thrown  over 
his  father's  shoulder,  they  went  into  the  house,  whilst 
as  soon  as  the  door  had  closed  behind  them,  a  pair  of 
bright  eyes,  over  which  two  long  ears  protruded  in- 
quiringly, peeped  out  from  the  friendly  cover  of  the 
brushwood,  and  a  little  soft-furred  quadruped  thought 
she  would  go  and  see  whether  the  frost  had  impaired 
the  taste  of  the  miller's  cabbages. 


WHEN  the  three  men  entered  the  old-fashioned  room, 
half  hall,  and  half  dining-room,  they  found  Peggy 
bustling  about  preparing  the  breakfast,  and  this  fact, 
combined  with  the  sight  of  the  snow-white  tablecloth 
and  the  sound  of  the  kettle  boiling  on  the  "  hob,'* 
served  in  part  to  dissipate  the  gloom  that  had  fallen 
upon  them. 

" Where  is  Miss  Barbara,  Peggy?"  asked  Tom. 
"In  bed?" 

"Iss,  wrth  cwrs!  what  else  you  think,  I  should  like 
to  know,  after  all  you  big  men  fritenin'  the  poor  child 
out  of  her  senses?  Ach-y-$ — for  shame!  But  there — 
I  s'pose  you  did  not  know  better.  And  iss  Phil-y-Velin 
goin'  to  have  brekwas  with  the  quality  too?  Dir  anwl! 
and  in  his  old  '  cot '  too.  *  Here,  you,  come  with  me 
this  minit,  and  I  will  give  you  your  Sunday  one,"  and 
in  spite  of  Phil's  deprecating  look  she  pushed  him  out 
of  the  room  in  front  of  her. 

"Peggy  seems  determined  to  do  her  best  to  make 
us  forget  our  trouble,  at  all  events,"  said  Michael. 

"Yes,"  said  Tom.  "What  we  should  do  without 
her  I  cannot  imagine." 

"And  she  too  is  of  the  same  opinion,  I  fancy;  but 
all  old  servants  are  privileged." 

In  a  short  time  Peggy  and  Phil  returned,  the  latter 
looking  an  incongruous  figure  in  his  Sunday-go-to- 
meeting  coat  and  corduroy  trousers. 

"Come  on,  then,"  said  Tom,  "let's  begin";  and 
they  drew  their  chairs  up  to  the  table. 

306 


UNDER    THE     THATCH          307 

Whilst  Peggy  brought  in  the  new-laid  eggs  and  the 
fresh  bread  and  butter,  together  with  the  cold  boiled 
bacon,  and  poured  out  the  tea  for  them,  supplementing 
it  with  a  generous  supply  of  thick  cream,  Tom  turned 
apologetically  to  Michael,  saying,  "  This  is  hardly  fit 
fare  for  a  big  London  doctor,  is  it,  Michael? — but  if 
you  come  to  Rome,  you  must  do  as  the  Romans  do, 
eh?" 

"  Nonsense,  man !  Why,  this  is  good  enough  for  a 
king;  and,  besides,  you  forget,  Tom,  that  I  was  bred 
and  born  here,  and  that  many's  the  day  I  have  had 
to  drink  my  tea  without  milk  for  being  a  naughty  boy, 
eh,  father?  "  and  he  nudged  the  old  man  playfully. 
The  latter  smiled  cheerily. 

"  That's  right,  Maychael,  remind  your  old  father  of 
all  his  cruelty  in  the  old  days — ah!  the  dear  old  days! 
In  my  deed,  Maychael,  I'm  thinking  how  proud  your 
poor  mother  would  have  been  to  have  seen  you  now," 
and  Phil  drew  his  sleeve  across  his  eyes.  His  words 
broke  the  spell  of  comparative  calm  and  cheerfulness 
that  had  fallen  upon  them,  and  Tom's  face  clouded 
over,  whilst  Michael  looked  grave  again,  for  Phil's 
words  had  brought  back  to  their  recollection  another 
whose  place  was  empty.  Peggy,  hovering  near,  gave 
Phil's  elbow  an  admonishing  nudge,  causing  him  to 
splutter  over  the  contents  of  the  cup  which  he  was  just 
lifting  to  his  lips  and  to  cough  violently,  and  he  looked 
up  in  time  to  encounter  a  threatening  gleam  in  her  eye 
and  a  fist  clinched  at  him  behind  the  young  men's 
backs. 

"  Maychael  Lloyd,  I  want  you  to  come  upstairs  and 
see  Miss  Barbara  when  you  have  finished  brekwas," 
said  Peggy  in  an  undertone,  but  not  so  low  but  that 
Tom's  quick  ears  caught  the  remark. 


308  UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"What's  the  matter,  Peggy?"  he  asked  quickly. 

"  Nothing  to  vex  about,  machgen-i,  but  I  want  May- 
chael  Lloyd  to  try  and  make  Miss  vdch  to  stay  in  bed 
to-day.  Her  head  is  aching,  and  no  wonder  too, 
after  all  the  cryin'  she  bin  doin',"  and  Tom  nodded 
in  acquiescence,  not  perceiving  the  cautious  wink  with 
which  the  old  woman  favoured  Michael,  and  which  the 
latter  acknowledged  with  a  nod  of  intelligence. 

"  I  can't  eat  this  morning,"  said  Tom,  who  for 
some  time  had  been  merely  crumbling  a  piece  of  bread. 
"  I  feel  as  if  every  mouthful  I  take  will  choke  me," 
and  he  arose  from  the  table  and  walked  to  the  latticed 
window,  on  which  he  drummed  listlessly  with  his  fin- 
gers. 

"  I  must  say  my  appetite  is  not  up  to  much,  either," 
said  Michael,  pushing  away  his  plate ;  "  but  I  will 
have  another  cup  of  Peggy's  excellent  tea  if  I  may." 

"Well,  I  mis  say  iss  rather  odd,"  ejaculated  Peggy. 
"  Here  iss  all  the  good  things  wasted.  Ach-y-$!  It's 
too  bad !  "  and  she  snorted  indignantly,  for  nothing 
so  much  perturbs  the  innate  hospitality  of  the  Welsh 
peasantry  as  a  failure  on  the  part  of  those  who  are 
partaking  of  their  good  cheer  to  do  justice  to  it. 
She  was,  however,  a  little  mollified  at  observing  that 
Phil's  appetite  was  in  no  way  impaired  by  his  com- 
panions' delinquency,  and  when  his  plate  was  held  out 
for  more  bacon  she  quite  recovered  her  accustomed 
good  humour. 

"Well  din,  Phil  bach!  You  iss  a  man  anyhow! 
Not  like  them  fine  gentries,"  and  she  jerked  her  thumb 
contemptuously  backwards  in  the  direction  of  Michael 
and  Tom,  who  were  conversing  quietly  and  seriously 
in  the  recess  in  the  window. 

"Well,  Tom,"  said  the  former,  when  Phil  had  fin- 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          309 

ished  his  breakfast,  "  after  all,  I  will  leave  you  to  ex- 
plain matters  to  my  father,  and  with  your  permission 
I  will  just  run  upstairs  and  see  if  I  can  relieve  Miss 
Barbara's  mind  by  a  little  judicious  advice,  for  I  ex- 
pect her  headache  is  caused  more  by  worry  than  any- 
thing else." 

"  All  right,"  answered  Tom,  and  Michael,  followed 
by  Peggy,  went  out  of  the  room.  They  went  up  the 
old  narrow  winding  staircase  of  black  oak,  and  ar- 
riving outside  Barbara's  door,  the  latter  knocked  qui- 
etly, and  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  walked 
straight  in,  saying,  "  Here's  Maychael  Lloyd  come  to 
see  you,  Miss  vdch.  You  won't  be  cross  with  old  Peggy 
for  fetching  him,  will  you?"  for  she  noticed  a  petu- 
lant frown  momentarily  flitting  across  Barbara's  face. 
She  was  lying  on  the  bed  with  the  coverlet  thrown  over 
her,  and  smiled  faintly  as  Michael  walked  up  to  her 
and  took  her  hot  hand  in  his  own  firm,  cool  palm. 

"Now  what's  the  matter,  Miss  Barbara?  Peggy 
tells  me  you  have  a  bad  headache,  and  that  I  am  to 
persuade  you  to  stay  in  bed  all  day,"  looking  at  the 
faithful  old  woman  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  bed 
gazing  anxiously  at  her  young  mistress. 

"Well,  yes,  Dr.  Lloyd;  it  is  true  that  I  have  a 
headache — but  certainly  should  not  have  thought  of 
sending  for  you  for  such  a  trivial  matter.  Peggy 
must  take  the  blame  for  that.  I  did  not  know  she  had 
gone  to  fetch  you,  but  now  you  are  here,  I  should  be 
very  glad  if  you  would  look  at  this,"  and  beckoning 
to  Peggy  to  assist  her  she  undid  her  blouse  at  the 
neck,  the  while  blushing  a  rosy  red,  and  disclosed  to 
view,  near  her  right  shoulder,  a  red  lump  of  about 
the  size  of  a  shilling  in  circumference.  It  looked  irri- 
tated and  sore,  and  evinced  signs  of  recent  suppura- 


310  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

tion.  "  I  am  not  nervous  about  it,"  she  continued, 
"  but  Peggy  has  been  uneasy  about  it  for  a  day  or 
two,  and  I  rather  suspect  that  is  really  why  she 
wanted  you  to  come  up,  and  that  the  slight  headache 
I  am  suffering  from  is  only  an  excuse,  so  perhaps 
you  will  be  able  to  calm  her  fears  now." 

"  How  long  have  you  had  this  lump  ? "  queried 
Michael,  bending  over  the  fragile  form  and  gently 
pressing  the  angry-looking  spot. 

"  About  two  weeks,  I  think.  I  was  out  walking 
in  the  wood,  not  far  from  Llyn  Dystaw,  and  in  trying 
to  reach  some  red  berries  I  had  to  stand  on  tiptoe, 
and  overbalanced  myself  and  fell  right  into  a  thorn- 
bush.  When  I  came  home,  my  shoulder  felt  quite  sore, 
and  it  has  been  so  ever  since,  and  this  lump  appeared 
next  morning,  so  I  suppose  a  thorn  has  been  left  in 
my  shoulder." 

"  Ah !  there's  the  mischief,"  Michael  said,  as  Bar- 
bara winced  a  little.  He  took  a  small  magnifying- 
glass  out  of  his  pocket,  and  bent  more  closely  over 
her. 

"You  are  quite  right.  It  is  a  thorn,  and  an 
ugly  one,  too.  Now,  if  you  will  be  a  brave  girl,  I 
will  soon  have  that  gentleman  out.  Peggy,  fetch  me 
a  basin  of  hot  water,  please." 

When  the  latter  had  left  the  room,  Barbara  turned 
quickly  to  Michael,  saying,  "  Dr.  Lloyd,  tell  me,  what 
do  you  think  of  me  after  what  I  told  you  last  night? 
Do  you  still  regard  me  as  the  wilful  murderess  of  my 
darling  mother?  "  and  she  gazed  pitifully  at  him. 

"  God  forbid,  Miss  Barbara,  that  I  should  take  upon 
myself  to  judge  any  of  my  fellow-creatures;  but  listen. 
[After  I  have  taken  this  thorn  out  of  your  shoulder, 
you  are  to  be  a  good  girl  and  try  and  sleep  a  little; 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          311 

then,  when  you  awake,  you  shall  come  downstairs  and 
have  a  talk  with  us  all,  and  we  will  see  what  is  best 
to  be  done." 

"  What  can  be  done?  "  said  Barbara.  "Why,  nothing 
can  be  done.  I  have  told  you  the  truth,  and  God  help 
me  to  bear  my  burden!"  and  the  poor  girl,  turning 
her  face  to  the  pillow,  sobbed  bitterly. 

Michael  was  deeply  moved.  It  always  hurt  him 
to  see  a  woman  in  distress,  but  when,  as  in  this  case, 
the  woman  was  one  he  loved  so  dearly,  and  to  save 
whom  from  an  hour's  pain  and  sorrow  he  would  cheer- 
fully make  any  sacrifice,  his  breast  heaved,  and  his 
breath  came  quickly  and  unevenly. 

At  this  moment  Peggy  returned  with  the  hot  water, 
and  observing  her  young  mistress  in  such  a  state  of 
collapse,  said  indignantly,  "  Maychael  Lloyd — for 
shame!  to  make  my  little  gel  cry  so!  What  have  you 
bin  say  in'  to  her,  eh?  tell  me  that,"  and  she  glared 
fiercely  at  him. 

Barbara  raised  her  head,  saying,  "  I  was  to  blame, 
Peggy,  and  not  Dr.  Lloyd.  Let  him  go  on  with  his 
work  now." 

Peggy,  sniffing  unbelievingly,  handed  Michael  the 
hot  water. 

"  There ! "  he  said  after  a  few  minutes,  "  I  think 
that  will  do  for  the  present.  When  I  return  to  the 
surgery  I  will  send  you  some  antiseptic  wool,  and 
some  soothing  oil,  to  apply  to  the  wound.  Here  is 
your  friend,  or  rather,  your  enemy.  I  trust  I  did  not 
hurt  you  very  much." 

"No,  thank  you,  Dr.  Lloyd;  I  hardly  felt  your 
hand  at  all,"  answered  Barbara. 

"  I  am  glad  of  that — as  it  was  a  nasty  little  place. 
It  is  a  good  thing  I  saw  it  to-day,  or  your  arm  might 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 

have  become  very  painful.  I  will  go  down  now,  and 
if  I  were  you,  I  should  stay  in  bed  for  an  hour  or  two. 
Then  keep  your  arm  in  a  sling,  if  you  must  get  up 
to-day. 

"Yes,  I  must;  you  know  I  must,"  said  Barbara. 

"  Oh,  well,  in  such  case  I  had  better  run  back  to 
Maentrevor  at  once  to  get  some  wool  for  your  arm." 

"  Oh,  please  don't  go  till  I  come  down — my  arm  will 
be  quite  all  right,"  and  Michael  smiled  indulgently  as 
he  left  the  bedroom. 

When  he  returned  to  the  living-room  he  found  Tom 
and  Phil,  sitting  on  the  settle  by  the  fire,  engaged  in 
a  heated  discussion. 

"  I  tell  'ee,  Master  Tom,"  the  latter  was  saying, 
"that  you  are  doing  Miss  vdch  a  great  wrong  in  be- 
lieving what  you  do  believe.  The  poor  little  gel  is 
wearing  her  heart  out,  grieving  after  her  poor  mother, 
and  I  tell  you  again  and  again  " — and  he  thumped  his 
big  fist  vigorously  on  his  knee — "  that  she  did  not  kill 
Mrs.  Owen,  and  I  would  not  believe  it  if  an  angel  from 
heaven  came  down  and  told  me  so — so  there!  You 
shall  see,  my  lad — you  shall  see."  He  puffed  vigor- 
ously at  his  black  clay  pipe,  whilst  his  lips  and  jaw 
set  more  determinedly  than  ever.  "  Oh,  drat  the  boy !  " 
he  continued,  as  a  lanky  youth  passed  the  window  lead- 
ing a  horse  and  cart ;  "  he  won't  have  any  corn  to-day, 
at  all  events." 

"  Nonsense,  father,"  interposed  Michael ;  "  why  spoil 
business,  and  offend  your  neighbours  at  the  same  time, 
by  refusing  to  grind  their  corn  when  they  send  it  to 
you?" 

"Nonsense  yourself,  Maychael  Lloyd.  You  mind 
your  own  business,  and  I'll  mind  mine,"  was  the  miller's 
uncompromising  answer,  as  he  stumped  angrily  out  of 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          313 

the  room,  his  solid  legs  looking  more  aggressive  than 
ever. 

Michael  smiled.  "  This  affair  seems  to  have  worried 
my  father  as  much  as  it  has  us,  Tom." 

"  Yes,  that  is  so ;  but  he  was  always  very  fond  of 
Barbara." 

"  Indeed  he  was,"  replied  Michael,  as  the  remem- 
brance of  Phil's  dream  returned  vividly  to  his  mind, 
and  he  sighed  heavily. 

For  some  moments  no  word  was  spoken,  Tom  break- 
ing the  silence  by  saying,  "  I  think  I  will  go  and  see 
how  Barbara  is."  He  was  proceeding  leisurely  out  of 
the  room,  when  a  loud  scream  from  upstairs  resounded 
through  the  house.  In  a  moment  Michael  was  on  his 
feet  and  making  for  the  door,  but  Tom  reached  it  be- 
fore him,  and  the  two  men  bounded  up  the  rickety 
stairs.  Arriving  breathless  outside  Barbara's  room 
they  waited  for  an  instant,  and  heard  her  sobbing  as  if 
her  heart  would  break. 

"  May  I  come  in  ?  "  said  Tom,  at  last,  knocking  at 
the  door  vigorously.  It  was  opened  by  Peggy  Jerry, 
who  gazed  in  a  bewildered  fashion  at  the  two  young 
men. 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  said  Michael. 

"The  matter?  Oh,  come  in,  come  in;  and  Miss 
Barbara  will  tell  you.  Oh,  Master  Tom,  Master 
Tom,  and  you,  too,  Maychael  Lloyd,  God  is  good, 
God  is  good ! "  and  to  their  utter  astonishment  Peggy 
threw  her  shawl  over  her  head  and  subsided  into  a  chair 
that  stood  outside  the  bedroom  door,  crying  till  her 
shoulders  shook.  Observing  that  they  could  get  no 
satisfaction  out  of  her  for  the  present,  Tom  and  Mi- 
chael entered  the  room,  and  were  advancing  towards 
Barbara,  when  suddenly  Michael  uttered  an  exclama- 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 

tion,  and  stepping  quickly  to  the  bedside,  lifted  the 
girl's  arm,  at  the  same  time  pointing  to  the  clenched 
hand,  from  between  the  fingers  of  which  protruded  a 
small  glass  phial.  With  his  other  hand  he  gently  dis- 
engaged it  from  her  grasp,  and  looked  at  it  earnestly. 

"  God  in  Heaven !  "  he  muttered.  "  This  is  the  very 
bottle ;  and  nearly  full  too ! "  He  took  the  cork  out 
and  smelt  it  carefully.  "  Yes,  it  is  the  same — why, 
what  is  the  meaning  of  it?  " 

At  this  moment  Peggy  came  into  the  room,  disen- 
gaging her  head  from  the  folds  of  the  apron,  and 
hearing  his  last  remark,  said,  "  It  means,  Maychael 
Lloyd,  that  God  has  shown  us  a  way  out  of  all  our 
trouble,  and  that  it's  all  a  mistake — all  a  mistake! 
Oh,  it  is  won'ful,  it  is  won'ful ! " 

"  What's  a  mistake,  and  what's  wonderful,  woman  ?  " 

"  Woman,  yourself,  Maychael  Lloyd,  and  don't  you 
dare  to " 

Here  Barbara,  who  had  hitherto  not  spoken  a  word, 
but  had  lain  with  her  face  buried  in  the  pillow,  raised 
her  head,  saying,  "  It  means,  Dr.  Lloyd,  that  through 
the  mercy  of  God,  in  administering  to  my  darling 
mother  what  I  thought  was  the  sedative  you  prescribed 
for  her,  I  made  a  mistake  and  gave  her  some  compara- 
tively harmless  medicine  that  poor  Essylt  had  kept  in 
the  little  chest  of  drawers  in  her  room.  I  suppose  it 
was  something  old  Rhysin  had  given  her,  for  Peggy 
found  it  there  one  day  when  Essylt  was  out  and  took  it 
away,  intending,  perhaps,"  and  here  Barbara  smiled 
faintly,  "  to  sample  it  later  on.  You  know  how  fond 
she  is  of  doing  that  sort  of  thing.  She  tells  me  that 
she  heard  dear  mother  moaning  at  the  commencement 
of  that  last  awful  paroxysm,  and  running  in  to  do  what 
she  could  to  assist,  put  the  little  bottle  on  the  mantel- 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          315 

piece  next  to  the  one  you  gave  me.  They  were  both 
very  much  alike,  as  you  will  notice.  In  a  short  while 
she  went  out  again,  and  in  the  flurry  and  excitement 
must  have  taken  the  wrong  bottle  with  her,  and  then — 
and  then,  dear  mother's  pain  becoming  worse  I  went  to 
the  mantelpiece  and  picking  up,  as  I  thought,  the  one 
that  you  had  given  me,  I  returned  to  the  bedside,  and 
as  I  could  not  endure  any  longer  the  sight  of  my 
darling  writhing  in  inexpressible  agony,  I  thought 
that  the  greatest  kindness  I  could  do  to  her  would  be 
to  save  her  from  any  more  pain ;  and  remembering  how 
you  had  told  me  that  I  was  to  be  careful  in  administer- 
ing the  medicine,  and  that  a  teaspoonful  was  a  fatal 
dose,  I  gave  her  that  quantity,  and  then — and  then, 
that  great  angel  came,  and  I  saw  by  the  sweet  peace 
that  settled  on  her  dear  face  that  she  had  gone." 

Here  Barbara  again  broke  down,  and  Tom,  who  had 
been  listening  to  her  explanation  in  silence,  now  broke 
in  with  "  But  you  did  not  kill  her,  Barbara,  darling." 

"  No,  Master  Tom,  she  did  not,"  answered  Peggy ; 
"  and  when  you  and  Miss  vdch  wass  leave  Caefran,  I 
went  round  the  dear  old  house  and  brought  everything 
away  with  me  that  I  could,  and  some  small  things  that 
I  found  in  my  dear  mestress's  room  I  put  in  my  pocket 
— you  can  see  for  yourself  " — and  she  turned  out  the 
contents  of  the  large  linen  pocket  that,  in  common  with 
most  Welsh  women,  she  wore  round  her  waist  over  her 
outer  petticoat.  The  contents  were  in  truth  a  varied 
assortment:  a  long  black  and  purple  wooden  needle- 
case,  a  lump  of  beeswax,  several  thimbles,  some  frag- 
ments of  biscuits,  a  small  round  pin-cushion  with  a 
frilled  edging,  about  the  size  of  a  crown  piece,  and 
many  other  articles  too  numerous  to  mention.  "  I  wass 
look  through  my  pocket  before  you  wass  come  up, 


316  UNDER    THE     THATCH 

tryin',  I  wass,  to  make  Miss  vdch  here,  laff,  like  she  use 
to  do  when  I  wass  let  her  put  her  hand  in  my  pocket 
when  she  wass  a  bappa,  and  I  found  that  bottle  in  it. 
TAch-y-fi!  says  I,  here  iss  something  of  poor  Essylt's, 
and  then  Miss  vach  wass  snatch  the  thing  out  of  my 
hand  and  scream  awful  loud,  and  tell  me  what  it  wass, 
and—" 

"  Yes !  yes !  I  understand  now,"  said  Tom ;  "  but 
what  became  of  the  bottle,  Barbara?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  left  it  in  the  room,"  answered  the  poor 
girl  between  her  sobs.  "  Anyway,  I  never  saw  it 
again." 

"Well,  whatever  it  was,"  said  Michael,  "it  was 
probably  only  a  concoction  of  the  old  herbalist's  mak- 
ing, and  would  not  be  injurious  to  your  mother,  I 
should  think." 

"  No,  no !  I  wass  see  Rhysin  after  poor  Essylt  wass 
die,  and  he  wass  tell  me  that  she  wass  have  from  him 
some  little  oil  to  put  on  her  poor  brist,  so  I  s'pose  that 
wass  it,  whatever,"  said  Peggy.  "  Rhysin  wass  a  very 
clever  man,  too." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say,  I  dare  say.  I  met  him  once  on  the 
beach  at  night-time,"  and  Michael  narrated  the  cir- 
cumstances to  his  listeners. 

"  Well,  b'tswr,  b'tswr,  whatever  you  may  say  against 
him,  and  wrth  cwrs,  you  doctors  would  not  like  him  or 
his  works,  his  little  bottle  has  been  the  thing  that  has 
made  us  all  happy  again,  whatever,"  and  Peggy  sniffed 
deprecatingly. 

"  God  forbid  that  I  should  speak  slightingly  of  any 
man  who  is  trying  to  do  good,  however  little  I  may  be- 
lieve in  his  methods,"  said  Michael ;  "  but  I  am  not 
so  sure  that  his  motives  are  good;  anyway,  you  had 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          317 

better  let  me  keep  this  bottle,"  he  continued.  "  It  has 
been  the  innocent  cause  of  much  trouble  to  all  of  us, 
and  I  will  take  very  good  care  that  it  does  not  work 
any  more  harm,  at  all  events." 

Barbara  nodded,  and  said :  "  Now,  Dr.  Lloyd,  I 
think  that  you  and  Tom  had  better  go  downstairs 
again,  and  Peggy  will  help  me  to  get  up." 

"  No,  no ;  I  must  beg  of  you  to  remain  quiet  to-day 
at  least,  as  I  want  to  send  you  something  to  soothe 
that  arm  of  yours.  And  besides,  you  have  now,  thank 
God,  nothing  to  grieve  over,"  and  there  was  such  a 
sincere  ring  in  his  voice  that  Peggy  looked  sharply 
and  quizzically  at  him. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Barbara  obediently ;  "  but  any- 
way, allow  me  to  thank  you  before  you  go,  Dr.  Lloyd, 
for  all  your  sympathy  to  me  during  the  past  dreadful 
time,  for  I  now  know  that  you  meant  all  in  kindness, 
although  at  the  time  I  dare  say  I  misunderstood  you. 
I  will  obey  your  wish  and  stay  in  bed  to-day,  and 
Peggy  shall  look  after  me,  won't  you,  Peggy?" 

"  Wrth  cwrst  Miss  vacTi;  and  I  should  like  to  know 
who  else  is  fit  to  look  after  you,  whatever." 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Barbara.  Good-bye  for  the  pres- 
ent, then.  I  will  look  in  again  to-night,  if  I  may,  just 
to  see  how  your  arm  is  progressing,"  and  Michael  went 
out,  leaving  Barbara  in  doubt  as  to  whether  he  had 
thanked  her  for  expressing  her  gratitude  for  his  sym- 
pathy, or  for  obeying  his  behest  that  she  should  rest 
her  mind  and  body  after  the  troublous  time  she  had 
so  lately  experienced. 

Tom  and  Michael  went  downstairs  and  found  Phil 
sitting  on  the  "  skew,"  and  looking  as  black  as  thun- 
der. 


318          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  Well,  and  have  you  two  big  boobies  been  upstairs 
fritenin'  my  little  gel  agen?"  was  his  prefatory  re- 
mark. 

"  No,  indeed — it  was  she  who  frightened  us,"  said 
Tom ;  "  but  look  here,  Phil,  your  belief  in  her  inno- 
cence has  been  more  than  justified,  for  it  was  all  a  big 
mistake  on  our  parts,"  and  he  told  him  all  the  wonder- 
ful events  that  had  happened  during  their  absence 
from  the  room. 

Before  he  had  finished,  Phil  was  on  his  feet  gazing 
from  one  to  the  other  of  the  young  men  with  a  com- 
placent smile. 

"  You  fools,  you  fools ! "  was  all  he  could  say  for 
a  moment,  with  a  note  of  scornful  pity  in  his  voice. 
. "  And  you  are,  I  hope,  proper  ashamed  of  yourselves. 
You  two  fine  gentlemen,  who  think  that  you  know 
everything,  and  were  so  willing  to  condemn  my  little 
girl  without  finding  out  all  about  it  first.  Well,  just 
you  come  up  with  me,  both  of  you,  to  see  Miss  Bar- 
bara, and  you  are  both  to  beg  her  pardon — before  me 
— and  Peggy  too,"  he  added  as  an  afterthought. 

"  Look  here,  father,"  said  Michael,  "  Miss  Owen 
wants  to  go  to  sleep  now.  She  has  hurt  her  arm 
rather  badly,  and  I  want  her  to  have  a  good  day's 
rest.  To-night  we  will  beg  her  pardon  as  much  as  you 
like — but  now,  she  must  have  a  little  peace  and  quiet." 

"  All  right — all  right — if  that's  the  case,  I  agree ; 
but,  mind  you,  Maychael,  my  boy,  you  and  Master 
Tom  there  have  both  to  beg  her  pardon  as  soon  as  she 
comes  downstairs  again — you  big  gabies,  you !  " 

"  Oh,  very  well,  father ;  we  will,  of  course,  do  all 
that  we  can  to  make  up  for  our  want  of  belief,  as  you 
insist  on  it." 

"  Where  is  that  boy  with  the  corn  ?  "  said  old  Phil 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          319 

suddenly,  getting  up   from  his  seat   and  looking  out 
of  the  window." 

"  Why,  you  sent  him  away  long  ago,"  said  Michael, 
"  and  against  my  advice." 

"  Against  your  advice,  indeed !  And  who  are  you, 
I  should  like  to  know,  who  dares  to  give  advice  to  Phil- 
y-Velin  on  his  business?  You  have  poked  your  nose 
into  some  very  sad  business  lately,  Maychael  Lloyd, 
and  you  see  how  wrong  you  have  been.  It  iss  not  for 
me,  a  father,  to  say  that  I  am  glad  my  son  is  wrong, 
but  I  do  say  so  now,  thank  God,  thank  God ! "  and  the 
old  man,  drawing  his  sleeve  across  his  eyes,  went  out 
of  the  room. 

"  Well,  Tom,  old  fellow,  I  am  going  into  Maentre- 
vor  now,  to  send  up  some  liniment  for  Miss  Barbara's 
arm.  Will  you  come  with  me,  or  will  you  remain  here? 
If  I  were  you,  I  think  I  should  try  and  have  a  little 
sleep.  I  am  going  to  have  a  nap  myself  when  I  get 
back,  before  I  start  on  my  rounds  again.  I  think  we 
both  require  a  little  rest  as  well  as  you  sister — eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  shall  lie  down  here  on  the  settle  and  try 
and  have  a  snooze,"  said  Tom,  suiting  the  action  to 
the  word  and  stretching  his  long  limbs  contentedly 
before  the  fire.  "  By  the  by,  when  does  Dr.  Rees  re- 
turn?" 

"In  about  a  fortnight,  I  think,"  replied  Michael, 
"  and  I  shall  not  be  sorry,  too,  for  I  want  to  get  back 
to  town  as  soon  as  I  can.  I  think  that  as  events  have 
turned  out,  I  shall  reconsider  that  offer  of  a  partner- 
ship after  all." 

Tom  did  not  say  anything  in  reply  to  this  announce- 
ment; knowing,  as  he  did,  how  deeply  Michael  loved 
Barbara,  he  thought  it  best  to  let  affairs  take  their 
natural  course. 


320          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  Well,  good-bye  for  the  present,  old  chap.  Will 
you  come  back  here  to-night,  and  see  us  all  again? 
Oh!  you  might  just  drop  in  to  Preece's,  and  plead 
headache  or  any  other  reason  you  like  for  my  non- 
attendance  at  office  to-day,  will  you?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly,  and  I  shall  try,  if  possible,  to  look: 
in  to-night,  as  I  promised  Miss  Owen  that  I  would 
come  and  attend  to  her  arm  once  more,  but  if  I  am 
not  here  before  ten,  don't  wait  up  for  me,  as  I  may 
not  be  able  to  finish  my  rounds  before  that  time,"  and 
Michael  closed  the  door  behind  him,  and  stepped  out 
briskly  towards  the  wood. 

What  a  contrast  his  present  frame  of  mind  was  to 
what  it  had  been  when  he  had  last  trodden  that  same 
road,  a  few  hours  before!  He  had  not  proceeded  far 
on  his  way  through  the  wood  when  he  heard  a  trap 
coming  towards  him.  Something  familiar  in  the  hoof- 
beats  attracted  his  attention,  and  a  look  of  surprise 
crossed  his  face.  The  vehicle  soon  came  in  sight,  and 
Michael  stepped  off  the  springy  turf  on  to  the  road- 
way. Yes,  he  was  right,  and  it  was  old  Fanny  com- 
ing along  at  her  usual  leisurely  pace.  But  who  was 
driving?  Not  Dr.  Rees,  surely! 

"Ah,  Lloyd,  here  you  are,"  said  a  cheery  voice. 
"  Ton  my  word,  you  are  a  sly  dog.  Lemme  see  now, 
who  lives  with  old  Phil  at  the  mill,  eh?" 

"  Good  gracious,  doctor — is  it  really  you?  I 
thought  you  were  still  enjoying  yourself  in  Rome,  or 
some  other  place.  Why  in  the  world  did  you  not  write 
and  say  you  were  returning?  " 

"Well,  my  dear  fellow,  the  fact  is  that  at  the  tail- 
end  of  last  week  I  found  myself  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Lisbon,  and  being  heartily  sick  and  tired  of  for- 
eign towns — for  I  have  been  gadding  about,  haven't 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          321 

I? — I  determined  on  bringing  my  patient,  who  is  as 
tired  of  travelling  as  I  am,  home,  without  saying  a 
word  to  anyone  except  his  people  of  my  intention.  A 
P.  &  O.  boat — the  Monastic,  to  be  exact — came  up  the 
river  the  night  after  we  arrived  in  the  City  of  Smells, 
and  without  debating  the  matter  any  more  we  sent 
our  kit  aboard,  much  to  the  regret,  I  feel  sure,  of  a 
dirty,  black-browed  villain  of  a  head-waiter  in  the 
hotel  we  had  booked  rooms  in,  for  I  feel  sure  he  had 
formed  the  design  of  examining  our  luggage  at  his 
leisure.  However,  a  handful  of  pesetas  furnished  some 
consolation  to  his  wounded  feelings,  and  here  I  am. 
But  don't  stand  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  man,  jump 
up !  By  Jove,  it  is  good  to  be  behind  old  Fanny 
again !  "  and  he  flicked  that  intelligent  quadruped  with 
the  whip,  much  to  her  indignation,  as  evinced  by  a 
surprised  squeal  and  a  simultaneous  uplifting  of  her 
quarters.  "  Soho !  there,  old  girl — Soho !  steady, 
steady ! " 

Michael  climbed  up  into  the  gig  beside  Dr.  Rees, 
who  turned  the  mare's  head  in  the  direction  of  Maen- 
trevor. 

"And  how  have  all  my  patients  been  getting  on? 
Killed  many,  eh?  " 

"  Well,  no — not  quite  so  bad  as  that,"  said  Michael, 
laughing ;  "  but  I  have  a  lot  to  tell  you,  so  if  you  will 
put  me  up,  I  will  stop  at  your  house  again  to-night, 
and  we  can  talk  things  over  quietly.  Then  to-morrow 
I  can  shift  my  things  to  'The  Plough,'  where  I  shall 
be  quite  comfortable,  I  dare  say,  until  I  return  to  town 
early  next  week." 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense,  man !  No  town  life  for  you 
yet.  I  want  you  to  stay  with  me  for  some  time,  and 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  Lloyd,  that  brings  to  my  mind 


322          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

something  I  have  long  wished  to  talk  over  with  you — 
but  don't  let's  discuss  business  now,  we  can  leave  all 
that  till  to-night.  Old  Preece  nearly  had  a  fit  when 
he  saw  me.  By  the  by,  I  see  he  has  his  niece  staying 
with  him,  and  Madlen,  wicked  old  gossip,  has  already 
imparted  the  news  to  me,  in  confidence,  that  it  is  com- 
mon report  that  Tom  Owen  is  hanging  his  hat  up 
there — is  it  so?  " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,"  answered  Michael.  "  They 
used  to  be  fairly  thick  at  one  time,  and  not  so  long 
ago,  too,  but  matters  seem  to  have  cooled  down 
somewhat  of  late." 

This  conversation  gave  Michael  the  opening  he  de- 
sired, and  during  the  drive  to  Maentrevor  he  unbur- 
dened himself  fully  to  his  old  friend,  and  told  him  of 
his  love  for  Barbara,  of  her  apparently  strange  con- 
duct at  times,  of  Miss  Hume's  suspicions,  well  con- 
firmed as  they  were;  and  of  Barbara's  confession  to 
himself,  and  the  subsequent  wonderful  happenings  by 
which  her  conduct  had  been  so  amply  vindicated. 

"  Good  God ! "  said  his  listener,  who  during  Mi- 
chael's narrative  had  not  uttered  a  word :  "  How  you 
great  blundering  idiots  could  have  thought  for  one  mo- 
ment that  Barbara  Owen  could  do  such  a  thing  in 
cold  blood,  I  cannot  imagine;  and  yet  I  suppose  you 
could  not  help  yourselves,  after  all.  Well,  the  saying 
is  trite,  but  nevertheless  true,  that  'All's  well  that 
ends  well ' ;  and  look  here,  Master  Michael  Lloyd,  7  am 
going  to  dress  Barbara's  shoulder  to-night.  You  see, 
I  have  come  back  to  work,  and  I  can  get  into  harness 
at  once,  eh?  But  joking  apart,  Lloyd,  you  had  better 
take  life  easily  for  to-day  at  least,  for  you  look  quite 
tired  and  worn  out,  and  a  rest  would  not  come  amiss, 
eh?  So  that's  settled." 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  But — all  has  not  ended  well,"  said  Michael  rue- 
fully, at  which  remark  Dr.  Rees  laughed  and  winked 
knowingly,  but  made  no  other  response.  They  had 
now  reached  the  only  street  of  importance  that  Maen- 
trevor  boasted,  and  as  they  passed  Mr.  Preece's  house 
they  saw  Mabel  Hume  standing  in  the  doorway,  but- 
toning her  gloves.  She  bowed  to  the  two  gentlemen 
as  they  drove  past,  and  Michael,  turning  to  his  com- 
panion, said,  "I  must  confess  that  I  have  no  great 
liking  for  Miss  Hume.  She  was  the  cause,  as  you  now 
know,  of  those  terrible  suspicions  in  my  mind  relative 
to  Miss  Owen." 

"  Ah !  but  you  must  not  judge  her  too  harshly.  You 
must  remember  that  she  was  justified  in  her  thoughts, 
more  or  less,  although,  woman-like,  she  gave  utter- 
ance to  them  more  freely  than  she  should  have  done; 
besides,  you  must  not  forget,  Lloyd,  that  you  too  har- 
boured the  same  suspicions  till  Providence  interposed 
and  helped  you  all  so  marvellously.  Ah !  I  thought  so ! " 
Dr.  Rees  muttered  as  a  smartly  groomed  young  fel- 
low passed  them  with  a  careless  salute.  "I  fancy 
Master  Tom  is  well  out  of  that  wood,  at  all  events." 

"  Young  Pegram,  the  brewer's  son — wasn't  it?  Oh, 
yes !  now  I  see  why  Miss  Hume  is  out  so  early.  I 
thought  it  was  unusual  for  her  to  take  the  morning 
air  at  this  hour." 

"  Well,  here  we  are,"  said  Dr.  Rees  as  they  turned 
into  the  stable  yard.  "  Let  us  go  in — the  air  is  quite 
nippy,  I  do  declare."  He  opened  a  side  door  and  they 
went  into  the  house. 

On  the  next  day  Michael,  at  breakfast-time,  as  Dr. 
Rees  seemed  desirous  of  taking  his  own  rounds,  be- 
thought himself  of  the  hut  in  the  wood,  and  determined 
on  taking  a  walk  out  towards  the  lake  and  perhaps  ex- 


324          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

ploring  the  surrounding  thicket,  but  as  he  reached  the 
turning  in  the  path  that  brought  him  in  sight  of  the 
pool,  he  perceived  a  figure  standing  at  its  edge  that 
caused  his  heart  to  leap  in  a  strange  manner.  He 
had  recognised  Barbara  at  once,  and  his  professional 
instincts  immediately  came  uppermost  as  he  remem- 
bered her  injured  arm.  He  went  towards  her,  his  foot- 
falls making  hardly  any  sound  on  the  soft  springy 
turf.  As  he  drew  near  he  purposely  stepped  on  to  a 
rotten  twig  that  lay  across  his  path,  and  the  sharp 
crack  it  gave,  as  it  broke  beneath  his  foot,  caused 
Barbara  to  turn  round  and  see  him.  The  blood  rushed 
to  her  face,  and  the  next  moment  again  receded, 
blanching  her  cheek  as  before,  for  some  instinct  warned 
her  that  this  was  a  moment  fraught  with  possibilities. 

"  Good  morning,  Miss  Barbara,  and  how  5s  the 
shoulder?  I  hardly  think  it  was  prudent  of  you  to 
irritate  it  by  walking  so  soon  after  the  thorn  was  ex- 
tracted." 

"  Oh,  you  evidently  'don't  take  much  interest  in  it, 
Dr.  Lloyd,  for  you  promised  to  come  and  see  it  last 
night." 

"  And  so  I  should  have  done,  had  not  Dr.  Rees 
given  me  to  understand  that  as  you  were  in  reality 
his  patient  it  was  his  duty  to  attend  to  you.  I  hope 
he  came  in  good  time." 

"  Oh,  yes !  He  came  and  told  me  I  could  go  out  to- 
day, so  long  as  I  kept  my  arm  in  a  sling.  Dear  old 
man,  I  am  glad  he  is  back ! " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  you  are,  although  perhaps  your 
remark  is  not  very  complimentary  to  me — but  I  know 
what  you  meant,"  Michael  said  hastily,  observing  the 
flush  mounting  again  to  her  brow. 

"And  I  suppose  that  now  you  will  be  leaving  us 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          325 

and  returning  to  busy  London  again — or  will  you  re- 
main here  a  little  longer?  " 

The  tone  in  which  she  spoke  was  conventional,  but 
Michael  detected,  or  thought  he  did,  some  slight  in- 
flexion of  anxiety  underlying  the  stereotyped  remarks. 

"  Well,  it  all  depends,"  he  said. 

"On  what,  Dr.  Lloyd?" 

"  Miss  Owen — Barbara,  you  know  on  what  my  move- 
ments depend,  surely ! " 

"/  know,  Dr.  Lloyd?"  and  if  Michael  had  had  full 
possession  of  his  feelings  at  that  moment,  something 
would  have  warned  him  to  desist  from  a  course  that 
was  already  presaging  disaster  to  his  aspirations,  but 
he  went  on  with  his  pleading  regardless  of  conse- 
quences. 

"  Yes,  I  think  you  know — I  love  you,  Barbara,  with 
all  my  heart  and  soul.  Sometimes  you  have  seemed  to 
be  not  indifferent  to  me — sometimes  you  are  reserved, 
and  cold  and  chilly  as  death  itself.  Why  is  it — what 
is  it?  !Am  I  not  good  enough  for  you?  Have  I  ever 
by  look  or  deed  offended  you?  I  do  not  think  so — at 
least  I  have  tried  to  avoid  doing  so,  and  all  I  know 
is  that  to  gain  your  love  I  would  sacrifice  any- 
thing  " 

"Anything,  Dr.  Lloyd?" 

"  Yes,  anything." 

"  What  about  your  profession — your  ideas  concern- 
ing the  sanctity  of  preserving  human  life  at  any  cost, 
although  that  same  preservation  may  cause  the  poor 
sufferer  agony  interminable  and  intolerable?  Do  you 
remember  my  views  on  this  subject,  and  dlo  you  remem- 
ber what  you  thought  of  the  action  contemplated  with 
regard  to  my  own  darling  mother  when  she  lay  on  her 
bed  of  pain?  I  thought  I  had  eased  her  of  that  pain 


326          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

for  ever,  and  told  you  frankly  and  openly  of  it.  What 
then  was  your  action? — suspicion,  doubt,  and  all  im- 
mense relief;  then,  when  you  found  that,  after  all,  by 
the  mercy  of  God,  I  was  not  a  murderess,  you  come  to 
me  and  tell  me  you  love  me !  No,  Dr.  Lloyd,  this  pro- 
posal of  yours  does  your  profession  credit,  but  your 
love,  had  it  been  true  love,  would  have  evinced  itself 
by  supporting  the  woman  you  now  profess  affection 
for,  not  by  doubting  her  good  intent.  Dr.  Lloyd,  I 
may  be  poor  now,  but  at  one  time  our  family  was  high 
in  the  world — aye,  and  proud — and,  thank  God,  some 
of  that  pride  still  exists  in  me,  and  I  ask  you  to  be 
so  good  as  not  to  repeat  the  mistake  you  have  made  to- 
day!" 

Barbara's  head  was  lifted  high  as  she  faced  Michael 
in  sublime  hauteur.  He  was  dum founded,  and  could 
merely  bow  his  head  beneath  the  stinging  lash  of 
her  tongue.  At  her  concluding  word's,  however, 
his  manhood  asserted  itself,  and  raising  his  head 
as  proudly  as  Barbara  had  done,  he  replied  with  great 
dignity,  "  I  regret,  Miss  Owen",  that  I  have  unwit- 
tingly offended  you — I,  who  should  have  remembered 
the  gulf  that  stands  between  old  Phil-y-Velin's  son 
and  Miss  Owen  of  Caefran,  and  in  extenuation  I  can 
only  ask  you,  as  man  and  woman,  and  not  in  our 
relative  positions,  to  remember  that  whatever  you  may 
believe,  I  love  you  more  than  my  poor  lips  can  ever 
express."  He  spoke  straightforwardly,  and  continued: 
"  I  see  I  have  pained  you,  so  I  will  leave  you  here — 
please  have  no  fear  that  I  shall  ever  offend  again." 
His  head  had  been  uncovered  during  their  conversa- 
tion, and  he  now  turned  slowly  away,  and  had  retraced 
his  steps  a  few  paces  when  he  heard  a  soft  voice  say, 
"Dr.  Lloyd!" 


327 

"Yes,  Miss  Owen." 

"Will  you  please  wait  a  moment?"  He  obeyed, 
wondering  a  little. 

"  Dr.  Lloyd,  I  trust  you  will  not  for  one  single 
moment  consider  that  I  think  of  any  disparity  in  our 
social  positions,  for  you  are  my  equal  in  everything; 
but  I  merely  called  you  back  to  draw  your  attention 
to  one  thing.  Here  " — and  she  pointed  to  the  lake — 
"  you  once  rescued  me  from  death,  and,  believe  me, 
when  I  say  that  Barbara  Owen  can  never  forget  that 
service."  She  held  out  her  hand  to  Michael,  who  took 
it  in  both  of  his. 

"  I  do  not  wish  you  to  refer  to  that,  at  all  events," 
he  said  humbly.  "  I  was  not  much  out  of  my  depth, 
and  there  was  no  danger  in  it  for  me." 

"  That  fact  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter,  Dr. 
Lloyd ;  for  all  you  knew  to  the  contrary  the  water  was 
very  deep,  and,  besides,  it  was  icy  cold,"  and  Barbara 
shuddered. 

"Yes,  it  certainly  was  cold,  and  who  would  think 
to  look  at  it  now,  so  clear  and  beautiful,  that  you  were 
once  struggling  in  its  cold  bosom?  Well,  Miss  Bar- 
bara— that  reminds  me,"  and  he  put  his  hand  in  his 
pocket ;  "  I  have  something  else  for  Llyn  Dystaw 
to-day,"  and  he  held  up  the  little  bottle  she  remem- 
bered so  well. 

"  It  has  caused  you  a  lot  of  pain,  but  I  now  put 
it  out  of  its  power  to  work  any  more  evil,"  and  he 
threw  it  into  the  pool,  and  they  both  watched  it  sink- 
ing, which  they  were  easily  enabled  to  do  by  the  limpid 
clearness  of  the  water. 

"  I  will  not  intrude  on  you  any  more,"  continued 
Michael.  "  To-morrow  I  shall  be  coming  over  to  the 
mill  to  say  '  good-bye '  to  my  father,  but  I  will  not 


328 

trouble  you,  as  to-day  has  blunted  my  hopes  and  my 
ambitions  for  the  future,  and  they  are  buried  as 
deeply  as  that  bottle  lies  on  the  bed  of  Llyn  Dystaw." 
"  Don't  say  that,  Dr.  Lloyd.  Your  hopes  and  ambi- 
tions must  remain  as  high  and  as  strong  as  they  ever 
were."  Barbara  could  not  quite  control  the  trembling 
of  her  voice  as  she  hurriedly  continued,  "  And  so  you 
are  really  going  away  again?  Well,  I  wish  you  all 
success,  and  please  say  that  we  are  still  friends." 
Michael  saw  with  dismay  that  the  tears  came  to  her 
eyes  as  she  held  out  her  hand,  which  he  took  and 
pressed  gently.  Barbara  walked  quickly  away,  Mi- 
chael looking  after  her  till  the  trees  hid  her  from  his 
sight;  then  he  too  turned  and  left  Llyn  Dystaw.  No 
birds  were  singing  now!  no  sun  was  shining  for  him! 
but  as  he  went  he  raised  his  cap  once  more,  saying 
reverently,  "  Well,  God  bless  her !  God  bless  her !  Aye, 
and  God  bless  me,  too,  for  I  sadly  want  His  comfort 
now ! " 


CHAPTER  XXI 

BEFORE  Barbara  reached  the  old  mill,  she  heard  the 
groaning  crank  of  the  mill-wheel,  and  coming  within 
sight  of  the  little  door  with  its  lower  half  on  the  latch, 
she  observed  further  signs  of  the  activity  within  by 
the  thick  clouds  of  white  dust  that  floated  out  through 
the  upper  portion.  She  walked  slowly  and  listlessly 
towards  it,  her  feet  feeling  as  if  they  were  weighed 
down  with  leaden  soles,  and  she  experienced  a  lumpy 
sensation  in  the  throat,  not  solely  attributable  to  the 
dust-cloud  within  which  she  was  soon  enveloped.  Peer- 
ing in  through  the  door  she  beheld  a  shadowy  figure 
moving  backwards  and  forwards  and  recognised  Phil. 
She  leaned  a  little  forward  over  the  door,  calling 
"Phil,  Philip  Lloyd!"  but  the  clank,  clank  of  the 
machinery,  with  its  relentless  clamour,  drowned  the 
sound  of  her  voice,  and  realising  the  futility  of  at- 
tempting to  make  the  miller  hear,  she  turned  away 
and  walked  towards  the  corner  of  the  building.  She 
had  stopped  to  gaze  at  the  old  mill-wheel  on  her  left 
hand  as  it  revolved  ponderously,  the  water  falling  over 
its  "  steps  "  in  silvery  cascades,  when  suddenly,  and 
without  any  warning,  it  stopped  turning,  and  Philip 
came  out  of  the  mill. 

"  Oh,  'tis  you,  is  it,  Miss  vdch.  I  saw  a  shadow 
between  me  and  the  sun,  and  I  thought  somebody  was 
there." 

"I  am  always  casting  shadows,  I  fear,  Phil,"  said 
Barbara.  "  Wherever  I  go,  whatever  I  do,  I  always 

329 


330          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

seem  to  cast  a  gloom — and  I  used  not  to  be  like  that 
too,"  she  added,  a  little  wistfully. 

"  Twt,  twt!  You  must  not  talk  like  that,  Miss 
vacTi.  If  it  was  Jones  Gelligaer  now,  it  would  be  dif- 
ferent. Deed  to  goodness,  if  he  stood  at  my  door  with 
the  sun  behind  his  back  I  should  have  to  light  a  candle 
to  see  my  way  about,"  replied  Phil,  referring  to  the 
man  whose  huge  bulk  was  a  source  of  never-ending 
delight  to  the  school-children  of  the  neighbourhood ; 
"  but  as  for  you,  Miss  WacA,  the  sun  could  shine 
through  you,  you  are  getting  so  thin,  and  looking  so 
pale." 

"  I  fear  I  am  disturbing  you  in  your  work,  Phil." 

"  You  disturb  me,  Miss.  No,  no !  I  was  only  grind 
two  lemchin  *  for  Nell  yr  Hafod,  and  I  have  finish  now, 
so  come  you  here  and  sit  down,  and  let  us  talk  a  bit." 
The  kindly  tones  sank  deeply  into  Barbara's  heart, 
and  with  a  sudden  pang  she  remembered  her  recent 
coldness  to  the  son  of  the  man  whose  kindly  sympathy 
showed  itself  in  his  every  word.  She  sat  down  on  a 
little  bench  by  the  whitewashed  wall,  Philip  having 
first  carefully  dusted  it  with  his  red  cotton  handker- 
chief. 

He  sat  down  beside  her,  saying,  "And  where  have 
you  been  this  morning,  Miss  vach?  " 

"  I  have  been  out  for  a  walk,  Phil,  towards  Llyn 
Dystaw.  I  had  intended  going  a  bit  further,  but  met 
Mi — your  son — by  the  pool,  and  we  stopped  there 
a  little  while.  He  tells  me  that  he  is  going  back  to 
London  now  that  Dr.  Rees  has  returned." 

"Yes,  I  know;  but,  Miss  vdch,  there's  sorry  I  am! 
I  am  getting  old  now,  and  my  time  on  earth  is  not 

*  Literally  "  Winchesters,"  i.  e.,  bushel,  so-called  because  it  is 
said  they  were  first  used  in  that  city. 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          331 

long,  and  I  was  hoping  that  he  would  not  go  away 
any  more — no  never,"  and  the  old  man  looked  piteously 
at  Barbara,  his  eyes  suspiciously  bright. 

She  laid  her  hand  on  Phil's  arm,  and  some  incon- 
trollable  impulse  bade  her  say,  "  And  /  am  sorry,  too, 
Phil." 

"  Are  you,  Miss  •vach.  If  Maychael  only  knew  that 
you  were  sorry,  in  my  deed  I  am  sure  he  would  not  go," 
and  Phil's  voice  trembled  with  emotion.  "  Miss  Bar- 
bara, it  is  not  for  me  to  say  anything,  perhaps,  and 
you  may  be  angry  with  old  Phil  for  telling  you — but 
I  cannot  help  it.  My  boy — Maychael — loves  the  very 
ground  you  tread  upon,  but  I  don't  think  he  will  ever 
tell  you  so,  for  he  is  proud,  is  Maychael,  and  he  would 
not  like  to  have  '  No  '  said  to  him.  I  too  am  proud, 
and  I  know  that  when  a  man  and  a  girl  love  one 
another  and  there  is  any  difference  in  their  position 
in  life,  that  difference  often  stands  in  the  way  of 
happiness,  but  I  don't  hold  with  that  kind  of  thing 
myself,  not  I.  My  dear  wife's  parents  thought  that 
Philip  Lloyd  was  not  good  enough  for  their  daughter, 
but  "we  thought  different,  and  in  spite  of  all,  we  got 
married  on  the  sly,  and  then  it  was  too  late  for  them 
to  stop  us.  Our  love  for  one  another  never  grew  less, 
but  remained  strong  until  God  saw  fit  to  take  her 
away,  and  then  there  was  only  me  and  Maychael  left. 
He  was  always  a  good  boy,  and  did  not  give  much 
trouble.  He  was  very  clevair,  and  I  wanted  him  to  be 
a  preacher — but  'twas  no  good,  for  he  was  always 
getting  hold  of  the  chickens,  or  dogs  or  cats  belong- 
ing to  the  neighbours,  and  wrapping  up  their  legs  in 
his  hankerchers,  which  he  was  tearing  to  pieces  to 
make  bandages  for  them ;  so  he  had  to  be  a  doctor,  and 
he  was  to  go  to  London  to  walk  up  and  down  the 


332          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

Vpitals,  and  mixed  with  all  the  gentries,  and  then  he 
use  to  come  home  sometimes  to  see  his  old  father,  an' 
he  was  asked  often  and  often  to  go  up  to  the  grand 
houses,  but  he  never  forgot  his  old  father,  not  he ;  then 
you  know  all  about  that  wicked  gel  Essylt  Lewis,  who 
came  between  us  with  her  sly  eyes  and  tow  hair,  and 
who  kept  him  to  his  foolish  promise,  made  when  he 
was  only  a  lad.  When  he  told  me  about  it  all,  it 
nearly  broke  my  old  heart,  and  I  wanted  him  to  give 
her  up,  but  he  wouldn't,  and  then  there  was  the  only 
quarrel  we  ever  had — but  God  chose  again,  and  took 
Essylt  away.  Pwr  thing!  I  must  not  say  anything 
against  her,  now  that  she  is  dead,  but  in  "my  deed, 
Miss  vacTi,  there's  glad  I  was.  Then,  after  the  time 
when  Mrs.  Owen  was  taken  bad,  poor  thing,  up  at 
Caefran,  and  my  boy  was  come  to  see  her,  I  was  often 
and  often  see  in  his  eyes  whenever  he  speak  of  you  that 
he  loved  you,  and  you,  because  you  are  a  big  leddy, 
will  not  have  anything  to  say  to  him.  I  think  you 
love  him,  too,  for  old  Phil  is  not  blind,  and  if  he  was 
not  Phil-y-Velin's  son  you  would  marry  him.  If  May- 
chael  goes  away  again,  the  next  time  he  comes  back 
will  be  when  I  am  dead.  If  Maychael  speaks  to  you, 
will  you  say  him  '  Yes  '  ? — for  that  will  keep  him  here 
for  always.  Miss  vdch,  don't  break  my  boy's  heart, 
and  mine  too,  by  saying  *  No '  if  you  love  him."  It 
is  impossible  to  describe  the  pathetic  cadence  of  the 
old  man's  words,  or  the  piteous,  anxious  look  with 
which  he  regarded  Barbara. 

After  a  long  pause,  she  rose  to  her  feet.  "  Phil,  I 
am  sorry,  very  sorry,  to  have  to  tell  you  that  this 
morning  your  son  asked  me  to  marry  him,  and  I  was 
obliged  to  say  *  No '  to  him." 

The  old  man  got  slowly  up  from  his  seat.     "  Pier 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 

fellow !  poor  Maychael !  I  am  sorry  for  him ! "  was 
all  he  said,  and  the  sublime  unselfishness  in  not  refer- 
ring to  his  own  disappointment  touched  Barbara 
deeply,  and  she  determined  upon  telling  Phil  all  her 
feelings  in  regard  to  Michael. 

"  Phil,  I  love  Michael,"  she  said  simply,  and  Phil 
gazed  wonderingly  at  her. 

"  What !  you  love  Maychael,  and  yet  you  say  '  No ' 
to  him?  What  does  it  all  mean,  Miss  vach?  He  is 
going  away — and  yet  you  say  you  love  him!  I  can't 
understand  it  at  all." 

"  Yes !  I  suppose  he  is  going  away,  but  I  have  not 
sent  him,  Phil." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  have.  If  you  only  said  *  stay,'  May- 
chael would  stop  all  right." 

"  Yes !  Yes  !  I  suppose  he  would — but  I  will  ex- 
plain everything  to  you.  Let  us  sit  down  again.  You 
know  what  a  terrible  time  I  have  gone  through  lately, 
and  how  shocked  and  horrified  everyone  here  was  when 
I  told  them  what  I  thought  I  had  done?  Well,  Michael 
is  a  doctor,  and  I  suppose  his  professional  instincts 
are  uppermost  in  his  mind.  He  loves  me,  I  know,  but 
he  loves  his  profession  more,  and  his  pride  in  it  is  sucto 
that  it  overshadows  his  love  for  me;  for  when  I  so 
sorely  needed  a  comforting  and  helping  hand  over  the 
rough  rocks  of  trouble,  he,  too,  thought  badly  of  me, 
for  I  could  see  by  his  manner  that  he  did  so,  and  if  he 
failed  me  then  at  that  supreme  test,  it  augurs  very  ill 
for  our  future  happiness  if  ever  we  were  married." 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  his  professional  'stincts, 
Miss  vdch,  but  I  do  know  that  all  his  pride  and  love  is 
in  you;  and  look  you  here  now,  you  have  just  told  me 
that  you  love  him,  whatever!" 

"  Yes,  I  have,  and  I  meant  it  too." 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"Then  that  settles  it.  You  little  know  my  boy  if 
you  think  his  pride  is  going  to  drive  away  his  love. 
Miss  vach,  I  am  only  a  poor  old  miller,  but  my  boy  is  a 
gentleman — I  suppose  he  takes  after  his  mother's 
people,  for  I  was  always  a  rough  old  chap  at  best." 

"  Perhaps,  so,  Phil,  but  you  are  one  of  God's  gen- 
tlemen ;  but  why  are  you  so  anxious  for  me  to  marry 
Michael?" 

"  Because  he  loves  you  and  you  love  him,  and  I 
know  you  would  be  happy  together." 

"Is  that  all,  Phil?" 

"  No,  not  all,  Miss  vach.  I  will  say  the  truth.  If 
you  say  *  Yes  '  to  Maychael  he  would  stay  in  Maen- 
trevor,  and  then  it  would  make  me  happy,  too,  to  see 
you  both  sometimes,  for  I  could  not  expect  such  fine 
leddies  and  gentries  to  come  often  and  see  poor  old 
Phil-y-Velin." 

Barbara's  only  reply  was  to  lay  her  hand  on  Phil's 
shoulder,  and  turn  his  face  towards  hers.  She  looked 
at  him  long  and  steadily,  and  the  old  man  returned 
her  gaze  as  earnestly. 

"  Well,  Phil,  it  is  no  use  talking  over  it  any  more ; 
Michael  knows  his  answer,  and  he  will  take  it  as  final. 
I  must  be  going  on  now."  The  old  man  did  not  attempt 
to  detain  her  as  she  rose,  only  he  sighed  heavily,  and 
Barbara,  glancing  back  over  her  shoulder  after  she 
had  walked  a  few  steps,  saw  the  bent  old  figure  walk- 
ing heavily  towards  the  mill.  She  would  have  been 
rather  surprised,  however,  if  she  had  heardi  Phil  mut- 
tering to  himself,  as  he  put  his  hand  over  the  lower 
half  of  the  door  in  order  to  lift  the  latch,  "  Well,  per- 
haps after  all,  Maychael  will  stop  at  Maentrevor." 

When  Barbara  reached  the  portion  of  the  building 
in  which  she  lived,  to  her  surprise  she  found  Tom 


UNDER    THE     THATCH          335 

sitting  on  the  settle  awaiting  her.  "  Good  gracious, 
Tom,  you  are  home  early  to-day,  are  you  not?  I 
fear  lunch  is  not  ready  yet." 

"  I  don't  think  I  am  earlier  than  usual,  old  girl. 
It  is  nearly  one  o'clock." 

"  Is  it  as  late  as  that?  I  have  been  having  a  chat 
with  Phil,  and*  the  time  slipped  by." 

*'  Come  here,  dear,"  said  her  brother,  drawing  her 
to  him.  "  Let  me  look  at  you.  You  are  not  looking 
well.  How  is  your  arm  to-day?  Has  anything  upset 
you?  You  must  not  grieve  any  longer,  little  Barbara, 
for  now  all  the  clouds  have  passed  away  from  us." 

"  Oh,  my  arm  is  nearly  well  now,  but  I  know  what 
you  mean,  dear,  and  ...  and  I  am  really  quite 
well,"  answered  Barbara ;  "  but,  of  course,  it  takes 
time  to  realise  that  everything  is  all  right  again." 

"Takes  time?  Nonsense!  I  feel  happier  and 
brighter  than  I  have  done  for  a  long  time  past.  But 
I  was  forgetting — what  do  you  think,  dear?  Dr.  Rees 
came  to  see  Mr.  Preece  this  morning,  and  informed 
him  that  he  intends  retiring,  and  hopes  that  Michael 
Lloyd  will  buy  his  practice.  I  know  it  is  true,  for 
Preece  told  me  so  himself." 

"  Dr  Rees  retiring !  Oh,  I  am  sorry !  We  shall 
miss  the  dear  old  man  so  much." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  won't,  for  he  is  in  hopes  of  buying 
the  house  he  has  rented  for  so  long.  You  bet  he  could 
not  live  anywhere  than  in  Maentrevor.  Oh !  here  comes 
Peggy.  What  have  you  got  for  me  to  eat,  Peggy 
Jerry,  you  old  sinner?  I  have  just  been  telling  Miss 
Barbara  that  Dr.  Rees  is  thinking  of  giving  up  prac- 
tising." 

"  Dir  antvl,  sir,  iss  that  so  ?  Well,  well,  who'll  look 
after  us  now,  I  wonder,  when  we  are  ill?  " 


336          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,  Peggy,"  said  Barbara. 

"Haven't  I  just  told  you  that  Dr.  Rees  hopes  Mi- 
chael will  take  his  place?  "  interrupted  Tom. 

"  Maychael  Lloydl?  "  said  Peggy. 

"  Yes,  Maychael  Lloyd,"  answered  Tom,  imitating 
her  tone  of  voice.  "I  suppose  he  can  afford  it  by 
now." 

"  Well,  if  he  can't,  old  Phil-y-Velin  has  a  big 
stockin'  somewhere,  I  know." 

"  Ah,  Peggy,  I  always  suspected  that  you  had  an 
eye  on  Phil,  but  I  must  say  I  thought  your  affection 
was  not  *  cupboard  love,' "  was  Tom's  laughing  re- 
joinder. 

"Me  wantin'  Philip  Lloyd!  Ach-y-$!  I  would  not 
take  him  if  he  was  hung  with  '  dimons  ' — so  there  " ; 
but,  nevertheless,  Peggy  simpered  and  giggled  like 
a  girl  of  sixteen,  at  which  Tom  leaned  back  on  the 
settle  and  roared  with  laughter  till  the  tears  came  to 
his  eyes. 

Barbara  could  not  help  smiling  too,  as  Tom's  mirth 
was  so  infectious,  but  she  suddenly  became  grave,  and 
said,  "  But  I  don't  think,  Tom,  that  Dr.  Lloyd  would 
care  to  buy  Dr.  Rees's  practice." 

"Why  not,  pray?  It  is  a  good  one.  By  the  by, 
I  met  Michael  just  outside  the  town  as  I  was  coming 
out,  and  he  looked  quite  glum;  I  expect  he  is  sorry 
that  his  work  here  is  at  an  end,  as  he  thinks.  But 
you  have  not  yet  said  why  you  think  he  would  not 
stay  here." 

"  Oh !  I  have  no  special  reason  for  thinking  so, 
except  that  I  should  think  that  a  young  man  who  has 
been  accustomed  to  the  busy  life  of  London  would  not 
care  to  spend  his  days  in  such  a  quiet,  out-of-the 
way  place  as  Maentrevor,"  said  Barbara  lamely.  "  I 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          337 

think  we  had  better  take  lunch  now,  for  if  we  gossip 
any  longer  the  bwdran  *  will  be  quite  cold." 

Peggy,  standing  near  the  door,  screwed  up  her  face 
and  favoured  Tom  with  a  slow  and  solemn  wink,  who, 
at  this  extraordinary  facial  contortion,  raised  a 
blandly  innocent  countenance,  causing  her  to  bounce 
out  of  the  room  with  a  snort  of  disgust,  making  some 
remark  to  herself  about  "  thick-heads." 

"  What's  the  matter  with  Peggy,  Tom,  that  she 
left  so  suddenly?"  asked  Barbara. 

"  I  can't  make  out,"  replied  that  young  gentleman. 
"  She  looked  to  me  as  if  she  was  going  to  have  a  fit." 

"A  fit !  Oh,  Tom,  surely  not ! "  and  his  sister  half 
rose  in  her  seat." 

"  No,  no ;  I  am  only  fooling,"  and  Barbara  sat 
down  again  relieved. 

"  This  bwdran  is  very  good  on  a  cold  day  like 
to-day.  Any  more  going,  dear?  "  and  he  pushed  his 
basin  towards  Barbara. 

"Yes,  plenty,  of  course." 

The  meal  finished,  Tom  looked  at  his  watch  again. 
"  I  have  just  time  for  a  smoke  before  I  start  back.  I 
say,  Barbara,  won't  you  come  in  with  me  to  the  town? 
The  walk  will  do  you  good." 

"  No,  not  to-day.  I  think  I  will  go  as  far  as  the 
seashore." 

"  Lucky  girl !  I  only  wish  I  could  come  too — but 
I  can't,  so  there  is  no  use  in  wishing,  is  there?  " 

"  No,  I  suppose  not.  Will  you  be  late  in  coming 
home  to-night?" 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,  old  girl ;  and  I  may  bring 
Michael  Lloyd  back  to  tea  with  me.  If  he  does  not  buy 
Rees's  practice,  I  expect  he  will  soon  be  leaving  us  for 
*  Oatmeal  broth 


338          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

London  again,  and  he  is  such  a  sterling  good  fellow 
and  has  been  so  good  to  us  lately,  that  I  want  to  see 
as  much  of  him  as  possible  before  he  goes." 

"  All  right,  dear,"  answered  Barbara,  moving  away 
so  that  Tom's  sharp  eyes  should  not  see  the  tell-tale 
colour  that  suddenly  wrapped  her  cheek  in  its  embrace. 

"  Oh,  Tom,  dear,"  she  said  suddenly,  "  I  fear  I  shall 
not  be  back  to  tea,  after  all.  Poor  old  Betty  Powell 
is  rather  bad,  I  am  afraid,  and  I  shall  take  her  some 
few  things  and  stop  and  have  a  cup  of  tea  with  her, 
I  think.  She  is  so  lonely,  poor  old  thing,  and  she 
is  always  so  glad  when  anyone  comes  to  see  her.  As 
you  know,  she  lives  on  the  way  to  the  shore,  close  to  it, 
so  I  can  kill  two  birds  with  one  stone.  The  moon 
is  nearly  at  the  full  now,  so  I  shall  be  quite  all  right, 
and  I  shall  go  and  see  Peggy  first,  and  on  to  the  shore 
afterwards,  as  I  always  think  the  sea  is  so  lovely  by 
moonlight;  but  you  can  bring  Dr.  Lloyd  back  to  tea 
with  you,  even  if  I  am  not  here.  He  will  be  company 
for  you  if  I  should  be  a  little  late." 

"All  right,  then,"  said  Tom,  "that's  settled. 
Good-bye  dear,  I  must  be  off,"  and  with  a  hurried 
kiss  he  left  her. 

When  Peggy  had  cleared  away,  Barbara  took  her 
hat  and  cloak  from  the  peg  behind  the  door,  where 
she  always  hung  them,  and  started  off  on  her  walk, 
carrying  a  basket  containing  some  few  things  for  the 
poor  old  woman  she  intended  visiting.  She  soon  found 
herself  on  the  further  side  of  the  wood  and  within 
sight  of  the  sea,  and  after  proceeding  a  little  distance 
along  a  path  that  ran  parallel  with  the  shore,  came 
to  a  whitewashed  cottage  with  thatched  roof  nestling 
in  a  hollow,  and  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  beach. 
Barbara  pressed  the  thumb-latch  of  the  door,  and  with 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          339 

a  "  Hallo !  are  you  there,  Betty  ? "  walked  into  the 
pen-issa,  or  living-room.  An  old  woman  was  sit- 
ting upon  a  settle  near  the  fire.  She  looked  ill  and 
frail,  but  smiled  brightly  as  she  recognised  her  vis- 
itor. On  the  stone  hearth  was  a  small  three-legged 
stool,  whilst  in  the  small  space  between  the  end  of  the 
settle  and  the  wall,  a  large  tabby-cat  lay  in  a  basket 
nursing  her  two  kittens,  and  the  whole  of  the  interior 
of  the  cottage  was  clean  and  tidy. 

Betty  tried  to  rise  as  Barbara  entered,  but  the  latter 
laid  her  hand  on  her  shoulder  to  gently  restrain  her. 

"  No,  no,  Betty  vach,  don't  you  get  up.  I  have 
come  to  have  a  little  chat  with  you,  and  perhaps  you 
will  let  me  make  myself  a  cup  of  tea  by  and  by. 

"  Iss,  iss,  Miss  Owen,  vdch — there's  proud  I'll  be." 

"  And  how  are  you  to-day,  Betty  ?  Are  you  feel- 
ing any  better?" 

"  Well,  Miss,  I  am  not  quite  so  painful  to-day.  But 
last  night  I  could  not  sleep  much.  My  poor  brist 
was  sending  such  awful  pains  through  me  all  the  time, 
but  it  is  better  now." 

"  I  wish  I  could  persuade  you  to  let  Dr.  Rees  see 
it,  Betty.  He  is  such  a  clever  man,  and  there  is 
Dr.  Lloyd,  too,  who  is  staying  at  Maentrevor  now. 
I  am  sure  that  between  them  they  could  ease  you  of 
some  of  that  agony  you  bear  so  patiently." 

"  No,  no,  Miss  vdch;  they  could  not  do  me  any  good, 
and  I  am  having  a  real  doctor  now." 

"Who's  that,  Betty?" 

"A  very  clevair  man — Old  Rhysin  Pengraig." 

"  Rhysin  Pengraig,  the  herbalist ;  but  he  is  not  a 
doctor  at  all." 

"  Well !  he  can  cure  the  cansair,  whatever.  There's 
lots  and  lots  of  people  who  would  be  dead  long  ago  if 


340          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

Rhysin  had  not  attended  to  them.  Let  me  see. 
There's  Nanny  Job  and  John-y-Bobby,  and  Will 
Tattws,  and — and then  seeing  a  look  of  in- 
credulity passing  over  Barbara's  face,  Betty  stretched 
her  hand  out  with  an  imploring  gesture.  "  Please 
don't  say  anything  against  Rhysin's  cure,  Miss  Bar- 
bara, anwyl,  for  if  you  do  so,  then  you  will  be  taking 
my  last  hope  from  me."  At  this  moment,  and  before 
Barbara  could  make  any  reply  to  this  touching  and 
most  pitiful  appeal,  the  poor  woman  leaned  back  in 
her  seat,  and  a  low  moan  issued  from  her  pallid  lips. 

"What  is  it,  Betty  vacTi?  Another  attack?  What 
can  I  do  for  you?  " 

"  Nothing,  Miss,  nothing.  It's  only  that  the 
leaves  are  dry  now,  and  I  must  wait  till  Rhysin  comes 
again  to  change  them." 

"  Let  me  see,  at  all  events,"  and  in  spite  of  her  feeble 
protestations,  Barbara  undid  her  shawl  that  was 
crossed  over  Betty's  shoulders  and  disclosed  to  view 
a  breast  so  abnormal  in  size,  even  under  its  covering  of 
leaves,  that  Barbara  could  well  imagine  what  it  must 
look  like  without  them,  and  strong  girl  though  she 
was,  she  could  not  repress  a  little  shudder. 

*'  Don't  'ee  look  at  it,  merch-i.  It  iss  very  nasty, 
I  know.  Perhaps  you  think  I  can't  be  cured,  but  old 
Rhysin  do  say  that  God  can  cure,  and  will  do  so  too, 
if  He  wants  to,  and  that  it  is  by  the  herbs  of  the 
field  that  He  will  cure  the  cansair,  and  not  by  the 
medicines  and  cruel  knife  of  the  doctors.  Oh,  no ! " 

"Let  me  bathe  it  for  you,  Betty  dear,  if  you  won't 
let  me  do  anything  else.  The  kettle  is  boiling,  and 
nice  warm  water  would  soothe  your  poor  breast,  I 
am  sure." 

"Oh,  well,  Miss,  anwyl,  you  iss  very  good  to  me, 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          341 

indeed,  but  water  must  not  touch  the  cansair — I  mean 
water  by  itself — so  Rhysin  do  say,  but  I  would  be 
awful  glad  if  you  would  just  pour  a  little  warm  water 
with  the  leaves  of  the  marsh-mallow  soaked  in  it,  over 
the  sore  place.  It  is  wonderful  good,  he  says,  and  I 
can  do  that  as  much  as  I  like ;  but  I  cannot  do  it 
myself  much  now,  as  I  am  too  old  to  get  up  much,  but 
Esther  Jones,  she  do  come  in  sometimes  to  help  me  go 
to  bed  and  to  get  up,  and  she  do  bathe  it  for  me 
then." 

Barbara,  although  sceptical  as  to  the  efficacy  of  the 
treatment,  complied  with  lier  request,  and,  ishortly 
after  the  pungent  decoction  had  been  applied  to  the 
sufferer,  she  had  the  satisfaction  of  hearing  her  say, 
"  There !  I'm  much  easier  now,  and  thank  you  kindly, 
Miss." 

"You  ought  to  have  someone  here  with  you  all 
day,  Betty."  The  old  woman  smiled  deprecatingly, 
but  Barbara  mentally  resolved  on  paying  someone  out 
of  her  own  slender  purse  to  act  as  nurse. 

"  There !  you  are  more  comfortable  now,  I  know,  and 
I'll  soon  make  a  nice  cup  of  tea  for  us  both." 

"  I'm  afraid,  Miss,  that  the  tea  is  nearly  all  gone ! " 

"  Never  mind,  there's  plenty  here,"  and  Barbara, 
going  to  the  rush  chair,  on  which  she  had  placed  the 
basket,  produced  half  a  dozen  eggs,  a  bottle  of  milk, 
several  pounds  of  sugar,  and  a  packet  of  tea. 

"  I  thought  you  might  find  these  useful,  Betty,  so 
I  brought  them.  We  have  more  in  the  house  than  we 
know  what  to  do  with  just  now." 

"  Indeed,  Miss,  there's  good  you  are  to  me,"  said 
Betty,  ignoring  the  little  fib,  but  her  old  eyes  filled 
with  unshed  tears.  The  nature  of  the  Welsh  peasantry 
is  a  curious  admixture  of  pride  and  humility.  Had 


342          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

Barbara  given  the  slightest  hint  that  she  had  brought 
the  goods  out  of  charity,  the  old  woman's  pride  would 
have  been  up  in  arms  in  a  moment,  but  when  they 
were  presented  with  a  "  white  lie,"  everything  was 
plain  sailing,  and  the  gift  was  accepted  with  a  quiet 
dignity  that  to  a  stranger  would  appear  almost  ludi- 
crous had  he  not  been  aware  of  this  side  of  the  Celtic 
character.  Such  a  phase  is  by  no  means  unusual 
amongst  the  Welsh  lower  classes.  Poor  as  the  pro- 
verbial church  mouse,  as  a  general  rule,  they  are  as 
proud  as  Lucifer,  and  would  rather  starve  than  seem 
to  accept  any  gift  out  of  "charity."  To  them  the 
very  word  itself  savoured  of  the  "  House,"  and  en- 
forced life  in  that  (although  in  comparison  to  the 
wretched  cottages  in  which  they  usually  lived  it  was 
luxury)  was  deemed  the  greatest  disgrace  that  could 
befall  them.  Perhaps  such  a  feeling  is  praiseworthy 
after  all,  for  home  is  home,  however  humble  it  be. 
Some  years  ago  the  writer  knew  a  dissolute  old  vaga- 
bond who,  sooner  than  be  admitted  to  the  "  House " 
for  a  night,  preferred  to  obtain  friendly  assistance  in 
the  shape  of  a  leg-up  and  topple  head  foremost  into 
a  crate  of  straw.  Such  pride  was  not  infrequently 
met  with,  as  I  have  said,  and  Betty  in  her  own  way 
was  as  proud  as  anyone. 

"Well,  here  we  are — everything  quite  ready  except 
the  toast,  which  I  will  soon  make.  I  will  now  put 
the  teapot  to  stand  a  little,  and  then  we  will  have 
tea." 

The  toast  was  soon  ready,  and  Betty  and  Barbara 
had  tea  together,  the  latter  chatting  cheerily  and 
retailing  all  the  news  of  the  neighbourhood  which  she 
knew  the  poor  old  woman  would  in  all  probability  not 
have  heard,  owing  to  her  isolated  situation  and  dread- 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          343 

ful  illness.  By  the  time  the  meal  was  finished  Betty 
was  quite  cheerful,  and  sitting  on  a  low  stool  in  front 
of  the  fire,  Barbara  succeeded  in  eliciting  from  her  tales 
of  her  long  bygone  youth;  reminiscences  of  this  kind 
always  interested  her,  and  she  instinctively  recognised 
that  the  more  Betty's  thoughts  were  diverted  from 
her  illness  the  better  it  would  be  for  her. 

"  Good  gracious !  it  is  getting  quite  late,"  she  said, 
when  some  considerable  time  had  been  passed  in  this 
manner.  "How  quickly  the  time  goes  when  the  talk 
is  interesting!  Well,  Betty  vachy  I  must  be  going 
now." 

"  Oh,  stay  a  little  while  longer,  Miss ;  the  road 
through  the  wood  will  be  all  in  darkness  now,  and  if 
you  wait  a  little  bit  more,  the  moon  will  come  up,  and 
you  will  be  able  to  find  your  way  back  much  more 
easily." 

"  Yes,  that's  true,"  acquiesced  her  visitor,  who 
guessed  that  under  the  circumstances  the  hours  of 
darkness  were  fraught  with  terror  for  the  lonely 
woman.  "Well,  I  will  wait  and  keep  you  company  a 
little  longer,  at  all  events."  Betty  expressed  her  pleas- 
ure, and  the  two  strangely  consorted  companions 
chatted  on  and  on  till  Barbara,  glancing  up  at  the 
little  four-paned  window,  saw  a  silver  beam  cast  ob- 
liquely across  it,  and  knew  that  now,  indeed,  it  was 
time  for  her  to  be  thinking  of  starting. 

"  Come  to  the  window,  Betty — I  will  help  you  to 
walk — and  look  at  the  moon,  it  is  lovely,"  and,  suiting 
the  action  to  the  word,  she  put  her  •arm  behind  Betty's 
back  and  lifted  her  gently  to  her  feet,  and  thus  sup- 
porting her,  they  walked  to  the  little  window.  The 
scene  was  indeed  a  lovely  one.  In  front  of  them  was 
a  green  carpet  that  stretched  to  the  shore  about  fifty 


344          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

yards  away ;  to  their  left  was  a  high  hill,  up  and  across 
which  ran  numerous  sheep-paths  plainly  discernible  in 
the  moonlight,  which  now  covered  sea  and  shore  as 
with  a  mantle  of  silver.  The  moon  had  just  risen 
over  the  hill,  and  shed  a  glory  impossible  to  describe 
over  everything.  The  gentle  murmur  of  the  sea,  as 
it  broke  in  silvery  waves  on  the  sands,  came  faintly 
to  their  ears  through  the  closed  window.  On  the 
left  of  the  shore,  in  the  shadow  of  the  cliff,  and  look- 
ing as  if  it  were  but  a  fragment  cleft  from  the  parent 
hill  by  some  mighty  upheaval  of  Nature,  stood  the 
"  sheep  rock,"  as  it  was  called,  looking  black  and 
sombre,  but  it  only  served  to  accentuate  the  supreme 
brilliancy  of  every  other  object  the  more.  The  beauty 
of  the  scene  was  indescribable,  and  for  a  time  neither 
Barbara  nor  Betty  spoke  a  word.  At  length  the  latter 
broke  the  silence: 

"  Who  would  think,  Miss,  when  we  look  at  God's 
great,  beautiful  world,  so  calm  and  peaceful  as  it  is 
now,  that  there  was  so  much  pain  and  sorrow  in  it?" 

Barbara  drew  the  frail  body  closer  to  her  in  an  in- 
voluntary movement  of  protection.  She  looked  at  the 
old  woman's  face  and  saw  the  big  tears  slowly  trickling 
down  the  furrowed  cheeks,  and  her  own  heart  swelled 
within  her. 

"Yes,  that  is  so,  Betty  vacTi;  but,  thank  God,  the 
pain  and  misery  down  here  will  not  last  long,  and  be- 
yond those  bright  stars,  peeping  and  winking  at  us 
over  there  across  the  sea,  and  beyond,  far  beyond,  that 
beautiful  moon,  there  is  a  land  where  pain  and  suffer- 
ing shall  be  no  more,  and  where  we  shall  all  meet  again 
some  day,  and  perhaps  look  back  and  wonder  at  our 
small,  small  lives,  so  full  of  trouble  and  woe  in  this 
world,  and  be  surprised  that  we  ever  cared  so  much 


UNDER    THE    THATCH          345 

about  staying  here,  when  there  is  so  much  more  joy 
and  peace  in  that  other  land." 

'*  Yes,  Miss — that's  what  the  preachers  tell  us ;  but 
why,  if  GTod  is  kind  and  loving  and  good,  does  He  put 
us  here  only  to  be  unhappy  and  have  all  this  trouble, 
and  then — and  then,  take  us  away  to  the  great  peace 
you  speak  of  over  there?." 

"  Betty,  such  questions  cannot  be  answered  by  us ; 
we  can  only  trust  and  believe.  Don't  you  remember 
the  old  hymn,  *  Through  the  night  of  doubt  and  sor- 
row, marching  to  the  promised  land'?  Believe,  Betty, 
only  believe,  and  you  shall  see,"  said  Barbara,  gently 
stroking  the  wan  cheek  leaning  against  her  shoulder. 

"Well,  I  do  try,  b't  swr — but  it  is  hard,  it  is  hard! 
Never  mind,  something  tells  me  I  shall  know  before 
long." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Betty?  " 

"  Well,  Miss  vdch,  I  mean  that  Rhysin  must  cure  me 
soon,  or  leave  me  alone  to  die,  for  I  cannot  bear  this 
great  pain  very  much  longer.  Oh!  I  only  ask  for  a 
little  peace  before  I  die,"  and  the  poor  soul  sobbed 
bitterly. 

"  Hush,  Betty,  you  must  not  speak  like  that,"  said 
Barbara,  whose  own  tears  were  now  falling  fast. 

"I  fear  I  have  stayed  too  long  and  tired  you,  but 
now  I  will  put  you  back  on  the  settle  and  stum  the  fire 
and  light  the  lamp,  and  I  will  send  Matty  Penrhos  to 
look  after  you  for  a  few  nights  till  you  are  better." 

"  Oh,  no,  Miss,  please  don't.  I  can  do  quite  well  by 
myself." 

"  You  cannot ;  and,  look  here,  Betty,  I  want  you  to 
promise  me  that  if  Dr.  Rees  or  Dr.  Lloyd  come  and 
see  you,  you  will  let  them  examine  the  sore  place.  Will 
you  do  that  for  me  ?  " 


346          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  Yes,  Miss ;  if  you  like  they  can  come  and  look  at 
it,  but,  mind  you,  they  shall  not  touch  it.  Old  Rhysin 
is  a  funny  old  man,  and  would  take  offence  if  he 
thought  anyone  wass  interferin'  with  his  work;  and, 
to  tell  you  the  truth,  Miss,  I  am  a  bit  afraid  that  he 
would  leave  me,  and  then  I  should  have  no  hope  of 
getting  better,"  and  the  poor  woman  began  to  cry 
softly  again. 

"There,  there,  Betty,  I  promise  you  that  they  shall 
not  touch  it,  if  you  are  not  willing  for  them  to  do  so ; 
but  I  am  sure  that  they  can  tell  you  what  to  do  to 
keep  it  clean  and  sweet,  for  God  never  meant  His  reme- 
dies to  be  used  in  an  uncleanly  and  dirty  manner — if 
those  are  His  remedies,"  added  Barbara,  sotto  voce. 
"  Well,  good-bye,  once  more,  Betty,  and  keep  your 
heart  up." 

"I  will  try,  indeed,  Miss  vach;  but  it  is  very  hard 
to  do  so — and  thank  you  over  and  over  again  for  all 
your  kindness  to  me  and  for  your  sweet  company  to- 
day." 

Barbara  nodded  and  smiled  encouragingly  at  her, 
and  saying,  "  I  will  come  again  soon,"  left  the  cottage. 
When  she  had  closed  the  door  behind  her,  she  went  over 
the  grass,  which  was  now  bathed  in  the  moonlight, 
down  towards  the  seashore,  and  walked  towards  the 
"  sheep-rock."  In  the  shadow  of  that  mighty  cliff  she 
stood,  watching  the  waves  breaking  lazily  upon  the 
sands.  She  had  stood  thus  for  some  time  motionless, 
when  she  was  roused  from  her  reverie  by  a  sound  as  of 
some  loose  fragments  of  rock  falling  upon  the  shingle 
at  her  feet.  Startled,  she  looked  up,  and  there  on  a 
point  of  the  rock  just  above  her  head,  and  silhouetted 
against  the  sky,  she  saw  a  small  animal.  For  some 
moments  she  did  not  know  what  it  was,  but  as  it  turned 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          347 

its  head  a  little  away  from  her  she  recognised  the 
sharp  snout  of  a  fox,  which  had  apparently  wandered 
down  from  the  hills  above.  She  knew  that  these  foxes 
were  plentiful  in  the  neighbourhood,  for  she  had  often 
heard  them  barking  at  night  when  she  lay  awake,  but 
she  had  never  been  so  close  to  ione  before  She  was 
not  frightened,  but  certainly  felt  an  uncanny,  eerie 
feeling  creeping  over  her.  Laughing  at  her  timidity, 
she  bent  down  to  pick  up  a  pebble  to  throw  at  it,  but 
when  she  rose  again  to  an  erect  position,  it  had  gone 
without  warning  and  without  sound.  Just  at  that 
moment  she  saw  two  men  walking  arm-in-arm  across 
the  beach  in  her  direction,  and  recognising  them  as 
Tom  and  Michael,  went  towards  them.  On  perceiving 
her  they  raised  a  shout  of  recognition,  and  extricating 
his  arm,  one  of  them  ran  to  meet  her.  When  he  came 
closer  she  saw  that  it  was  her  brother,  and  it  must 
be  confessed  that  she  was  slightly  disappointed. 

"  Hallo !  Babs,"  for  so  he  sometimes  called  her, 
"  where  have  you  been  ?  Here  have  Lloyd  and  I 
been  waiting  for  you  up  at  the  mill  for  ever  so  long. 
You  said  you  would  be  back  soon." 

"  Oh,  no !  I  didn't,  dear.  I  told  you  I  was  going  to 
see  old  Betty,  and  that  I  should  not  be  back  to  tea. 
Is  that  not  so  ?  " 

"  Well,  perhaps  so.  But  we  were  really  beginning 
to  be  anxious  about  you,  dear.  Michael  and  I  called 
at  Betty's  cottage,  but  she  told  us  you  had  left  her 
some  time  ago.  Then  we  determined  on  coming  down 
here  to  have  a  look  round,  as  we  thought  it  possible 
you  might  have  been  tempted  to  take  a  stroll  on  the 
sands  by  moonlight." 

"  And  so  I  was.  Never  mind !  you  have  found  me 
all  right." 


348          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

"  Ah,  Miss  Owen,"  said  a  grave  voice,  as  Michael 
reached  them,  "  I  am  glad  we  have  found  you." 

"  I  am  always  quite  safe  on  the  shore,  Dr.  Lloyd, 
thank  you." 

"  Oh !  I  dare  say ;  but  you  might  get  startled  at 
some  time  or  another.  We  just  saw  one  <of  those  cliff- 
foxes  scuttling  across  the  shore." 

"  Yes  ?  He  was  quite  close  to  me  a  little  while  ago, 
but  I  don't  think  he  saw  me,  and  if  he  did,  he  would 
have  been  just  as  frightened  as  I,  and  perhaps  more 
so,'*  laughed  Barbara. 

"  Well,  let's  go  home  now,  at  all  events,"  interrupted 
Tom.  "  It  is  getting  quite  late.  What  do  you  say, 
Lloyd?" 

"For  my  part  I  like  the  peace  and  quiet  of  the 
seashore,  but  I  am  quite  at  your  disposal." 

"I  must  get  home,  for  as  I  told  you  at  tea-time, 
Michael,  I  have  promised  old  Preece  to  get  that  con- 
veyance drafted  to-night,  but  first  I  shall  have  to  go 
back  to  the  office  to  fetch  some  papers  that  I  have  for- 
gotten; I  fear  it  means  an  all-night  job  though,  but 
that  comes  of  staying  away  yesterday." 

"You  don't  regret  it,  do  you?"  said  Michael. 

"By  Jove!— not  I." 

"  Look  here,  Tom,"  interposed  Barbara.  "  I  want 
Dr.  Lloyd  to  see  old  Betty  professionally,  if  he  will 
be  so  kind.  She  is  very  ill  indeed,  and  he  may  be  able 
to  ease  her  pain  a  little."  Turning  to  Michael,  she 
added,  "  She  is  suffering  from  cancer,  I  fear." 

"  How  strange  it  is  that  this  dreadful  disease  seems 
to  be  claiming  a  larger  percentage  of  victims  than 
heretofore !  "  answered  Michael. 

"  Yes — you  doctors  are  nonplussed,  I  imagine,"  said 
Tom,  "but oh,  all  right,  Babs,  dear,  I  will  go 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          349 

direct  to  Maentrevor  from  here,  and  if  Michael  will  see 
you  home,  I  shall  be  at  the  mill  as  soon  as  you 
are." 

"  Very  well,"  said  his  sister ;  "  but  perhaps  Dr. 
Lloyd  would  prefer  that  you  came  with  us  ?  " 

"  If  I  may  be  allowed  to  answer  for  myself,  I  beg 
to  endorse  Tom's  plan,  for  Tom  will  enjoy  his  supper 
all  the  more  for  knowing  that  he  has  not  to  face  a  stiff 
walk  afterwards;  that's  to  say,  if  you  won't  mind 
waiting  outside  the  cottage  while  I  see  Betty  Powell, 
Miss  Barbara." 

"  Not  at  all,"  answered  the  girl. 

"Well,  good-bye,  then,"  said  Tom.  "I'm  off,  and 
I  bet  I  shall  be  home  before  you  two  are.  Only  don't 
keep  me  waiting  for  my  supper  too  long,  that's 
all." 

Michael  smiled,  and  Barbara  answered  in  a  non- 
committal tone.  "  You  have  nothing  to  bet  with,  Tom, 
or  I  should  feel  inclined  to  take  that  bet." 

"  Better  not,"  said  that  irrepressible  youth,  and  he 
started  running  across  the  beach,  whilst  Barbara  and 
Michael  proceeded  slowly  towards  Betty's  cottage. 

"Does  no  other  doctor  attend  Betty?"  said  the 
latter. 

"  No  qualified  doctor,  but  old  Rhysin  Pengraig  ap- 
plies some  of  his  herbal  remedies  to  the  wound." 

Michael  stopped,  "  Rhysin,  the  herbalist !  Oh,  then, 
I  don't  see  that  I  can  do  much  good;  and,  besides,  I 
do  not  care  to " 

"  I  see  what  you  mean,"  said  his  companion  slowly ; 
"  although  this  poor  soul  is  in  dreadful  agony,  and  al- 
though you  may  be  able  to  relieve  that  agony,  you  will 
not  collaborate  with  anyone  in  attempting  that  relief, 
unless  that  '  anyone '  is  a  brother-professional.  Oh, 


350          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

you  doctors,  you  doctors — to  what  heights  can  you 
rise,  and  to  what  depths  can  you  fall!  Cannot  you 
see  that  these  herbalists  may  have  discovered  some 
great  secret  which  enables  them  to  cure  that  dread 
disease  of  cancer?  I  don't  say  that  they  have  done 
so — but  is  not  every  alleged  remedy  worth  investigat- 
ing? *  No,'  you  say,  because  your  professional  big- 
otry obstructs  what  may  be  your  professional  ad- 
vancement, to  say  nothing  of  the  possibility  of  you,  as 
a  skilled  man,  being  able  to  apply  your  knowledge 
(where  ignorance  fails,  of  necessity)  for  the  purpose 
of  relieving  a  poor  sufferer.  You  thereby  abuse  the 
highest  privilege  of  your  calling,  and  coldly,  heart- 
lessly withdraw,  sheltering  yourselves  in  smug  content 
behind  the  paltry  word  'professional,'  nourishing  and 
hugging  to  your  bosoms  the  knowledge  that  you  have 
fulfilled  every  demand  of  *  professional '  etiquette." 

Whilst  Barbara  was  speaking,  Michael  had  been 
listening  intently.  When  she  began  his  eyes  had  been 
fixed  on  the  sand  which  he  had  been  stirring  uneasily 
with  his  foot,  but  as  her  bitter,  scornful  words  ceased, 
he  raised  his  head. 

"  I  thank  you,  Miss  Owen,"  he  said,  "  for  your 
words — the  more  so  as  I  see  plainly  how  true  and  forc- 
ible they  are,  and  they  make  me  regard  things  in  a  dif- 
ferent light  now.  I  see,  too,  that  this  is  the  second 
time  you  have  rebuked  me,  with  just  cause,  although 
on  the  previous  occasion  I  was  more  obtuse.  I  will  now 
see  Betty,  and  do  my  best  for  her." 

Michael  spoke  very  quietly,  and  as  he  stopped 
speaking  Barbara  looked  straight  at  him.  He  re- 
turned her  gaze  just  as  earnestly,  and  then  a  little 
grateful  smile  crossed  her  face,  for  she  realised  what 
a  struggle  it  must  have  been  to  this  man's  pride  to 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          351 

acknowledge  himself  wrong  in  the  most  dearly  cher- 
ished ideals  of  his  medical  creed.  They  now  walked 
on  towards  the  cottage,  and  Michael  knocked  at  the 
door,  and  with  a  low  "  Excuse  me ;  I  won't  be  long," 
left  Barbara  in  the  moonlight. 


CHAPTER    XXII 

FOE  some  time  after  Michael  had  gone  into  the  little 
cottage,  Barbara  walked  up  and  down  in  the  moon- 
light. Her  mind  torn  with  conflicting  emotions,  she 
realised  now  that  the  knowledge  of  Michael's  love  for 
her  was  the  sweetest  of  all  human  joys.  Why,  oh,  why 
had  she  not  realised  this  sooner?  Now  it  was  too  late, 
and  by  her  own  cold  and  heartless  words  she  had 
driven  away  from  her  all  hope  of  future  happiness,  and 
had  cast  away  that  love,  to  gain  which  any  girl  might 
have  been  proud.  Was  it  now  too  late  ?  Yes !  it  was ; 
for  she  knew  that  Michael,  too,  had  pride,  and  would 
never  ask  her  again,  unless  she  gave  him  the  oppor- 
tunity, which  her  heart  told  her  instinctively  he  would 
take  if  he  had  the  chance,  and  her  pride  would  never, 
never  allow  her  to  make  that  opportunity.  For  what 
would  he  think  of  her  then?  Would  he  not  consider 
her  as  a  capricious  girl  who  had  no  stability  of  char- 
acter, and  who  did  not  know  her  own  mind  from  one 
moment  to  another?  Of  course  he  would,  there  was 
no  doubt  about  it.  So  preoccupied  was  she  with  her 
thoughts  that  she  did  not  perceive  a  figure  approach- 
ing her  over  the  grass,  and  she  stopped  and  looked 
up  with  a  start  as  a  voice  said,  "  Nos  da*  "*  In  front 
of  her  was  an  old  man  wearing  a  shabby  dark  overcoat, 
so  worn  in  places  that  even  in  the  uncertain  light  pro- 
vided by  the  moon  the  threadbare  patches  could  be 
seen.  She  guessed  who  it  was  that  spoke  to  her,  and 
said,  "Is  it  thou,  Rhysin?" 

*Good  evening. 
352 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          353 

"Yes,  it  is  old  Rhysin,  and  who  are  you?" 

"  I  am  Miss  Owen,  who  used  to  live  at  Caefran." 

"  Oh,  I  know  now,  Miss,"  and  he  pulled  at  his 
grizzled  forelock  submissively. 

"  You  are  going  to  see  old  Betty  Powell,  are  you 
not?"  continued  Barbara.  "She  is  very  bad  to- 
night." 

"  Yes,  she  is  bad,"  said  the  old  man ;  "  I  suppose 
you  have  been  in  to  see  her  too?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have ;  and  I  am  very  much  afraid  that  she 
is  not  going  to  last  very  long." 

"  Perhaps  not !  perhaps  not — that  is  as  God  wills  ; 
but  what  are  you  walking  up  and  down  about  here 
for?  "  and  he  looked  sharply  at  Barbara,  who,  resent- 
ing the  tone  in  which  he  spoke,  flushed  slightly. 

"  Betty  has  another  visitor.  I  don't  think  you  can 
go  in  and  see  her  for  a  few  minutes ;  but  you  won't  be 
kept  waiting  long." 

"Oh,  old  Rhysin  can  wait.  He  has  waited  a  long 
time,  and  can  wait  a  little  more,  Miss." 

"  I  hear  you  have  some  patients  at  Maentrevor  now," 
said  Barbara. 

"  Oh,  yes,  oh,  yes !  There  are  some  poor  people 
who  have  come  down  there  for  me  to  cure  them.  They 
have  all  got  '  the  cansair,'  but  most  of  them  have 
gone  back  cured.  Then,  when  they  have  gone,  they 
forget  all  about  poor  old  Rhysin;  but  never  mind, 
never  mind,  I  shall  be  rewarded  some  day." 

The  cant  and  sincerity  with  which  this  last  speech 
was  intermixed  filled  Barbara  for  the  moment  with 
surprise,  and  she  could  not  help  saying,  "  But  if  you 
really  have  cured  people  of  cancer,  a  disease  which 
all  the  doctors  in  the  world  have  hitherto  failed  to 
cure,  you  need  do  no  work  for  the  rest  of  your  days, 


354          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

Rhysin,  for  you  could  command  a  high  price  for  your 
cure.  But  can  you  prove  any  cures  ?  " 

He  looked  craftily  at  her. 

"Come  you  here,  Miss,"  and  he  looked  round  him 
cautiously.  "  Look  at  these !  You  can  see  them 
plainly  enough  in  the  moonlight."  He  produced  from 
his  pocket  some  half  a  dozen  photographs  which  were 
wrapped  in  a  piece  of  newspaper,  and  showed  signs 
of  considerable  wear  and  tear;  they  were  none  too 
clean,  and  the  subject  of  the  portraiture  was  none  too 
inviting,  depicting,  as  it  did,  hideous  sores  of  every 
description.  Rhysin  appeared  rather  hurt  when  Bar- 
bara turned  away  with  a  little  shudder  of  disgust,  for 
wrapped  up  as  he  was  in  his  "  profession  "  of  healing, 
the  old  herbalist  could  not  understand  other  people 
not  being  as  interested  in  his  alleged  cures  as  he  was 
himself.  "  I  have  plenty  more  of  these  at  home,"  he 
said,  "  and  letters  plenty,  too,  all  telling  me  of  the 
great  cures  that  I  have  made." 

At  this  moment  the  latch  of  the  cottage  door  be- 
hind them  clicked,  as  it  was  lifted  from  within,  and  Mi- 
chael came  out  into  the  fresh  night  air.  His  face 
looked  even  graver  than  usual,  and  as  he  came  to- 
wards Barbara  he  did  not  at  first  notice  that  she  was 
not  alone,  until  she  said,  "  Here  is  Rhysin  Pengraig, 
who  arrived  just  after  you  had  gone  into  the  cottage, 
Dr.  Lloyd,  but  I  asked  him  not  to  go  in  to  see  Betty, 
as  she  was  engaged.  How  do  you  find  her  now?" 

Michael  turned  towards  Rhysin,  who  was  regarding 
him  with  no  friendly  looks.  "  She  is  about  as  bad  as 
she  can  be,"  he  said ;  "  and  look  here,  Rhysin  Thomas, 
I  am  not  one  who  interferes  with  any  man's  business 
as  a  rule,  but  if  you  apply  any  more  of  your  ointment, 
or  whatever  it  may  be,  to  that  poor  woman  in  there, 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          355 

I  will  not  be  responsible  for  what  the  consequences 
may  be." 

"Responsible?  Who  asked  you  to  be  responsible, 
I  should  like  to  know?  "  was  the  old  man's  uncompro- 
mising reply.  '*  She  did  not  ask  you,  did  she?"  and 
he  jerked  his  thumb  backwards  in  the  direction  of  the 
cottage. 

"  No,  she  did  not  ask  me ;  but  I  am  thankful,  very 
thankful,  that  I  have  seen  her.  Why,  man,  even  sup- 
posing that  you  have,  as  you  claim,  discovered  the 
secret  of  curing  what  is  perhaps  the  most  dread  of 
known  diseases,  her  bodily  strength  is  not  sufficient  to 
stand  your  treatment." 

"Oh,  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  bodily  strength," 
said  the  old  herbalist,  speaking  rapidly  in  the  vernacu- 
lar, into  which  in  his  growing  excitement  he  had  un- 
consciously passed.  This,  however,  made  no  difference 
to  either  of  his  listeners,  both  of  whom  understood 
Welsh  perfectly.  "  All  I  know  is  that  this  little  bottle 
that  I  have  here,"  and  from  his  trousers  pocket  he  pro- 
duced a  tiny  phial  secured  apparently  round  a  button 
by  a  string,  "  holds  something  that  can  cure  what  all 
you  doctors  cannot  cure.  Shall  I  tell  you  how  I  found 
it  out?  My  father  and  my  grandfather  before  me 
were  well  skilled  in  herb-dealing,  for  they  thought,  as 
I  do,  that  for  every  disease  that  God  sent  to  us  He  must 
also  have  provided  some  remedy,  and  where  more  likely 
than  in  His  own  pure  herbs  of  the  field?  The  animals, 
when  they  are  sick,  know  what  grasses  and  leaves  to 
eat,  and  why  should  not  men  do  so  too?  No,  they  are 
too  proud  in  their  own  conceit,  and  think  they  can 
learn  everything  from  books,  but  they  can't — they 
can't?  Well,  as  I  was  saying.  Neither  my  father  nor 
my  grandfather,  though  they  were  both  very  clever  in 


356          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

their  own  way,  and  could  find  cures  for  most  illnesses, 
could  find  a  cure  for  cansair.  That  was  left  for 
me  to  do,  and  I'll  tell  you  how  I  did  it.  I  used  to  go 
out  every  moonlight  night  and  find  some  little  leaves, 
which  I  used  to  put  on  the  wound  of  a  patient  whom  I 
knew  was  suffering  from  cansair,  who  had  called  me  in 
to  attend  him  after  you  big  doctors  had  tried  two  or 
three  cruel  operations — as  if  the  knife  would  ever  cure 
a  disease  whose  roots  are  right  deep  down  in  the 
blood!  Where  is  your  common  sense?  And  then,  af- 
ter an  hour  or  two  of  waiting,  I  would  go  and  look 
at  the  little  leaves,  but  I  would  find  them  all  dried  up; 
and  dead,  and  I  knew  that  the  cansair  was  still  master ; 
but  one  night  God  blessed  my  hard  work,  and  directed 
me  to  a  little  leaf,  which  after  lying  on  the  wound 
for  some  hours  was  as  fresh  and  green  as  the  minute 
I  had  put  it  on.  I  tried  more  of  the  leaves  to  make 
sure,  and  left  them  all  night,  and  in  the  morning  they 
had  not  changed  a  little  bit,  and  I  knew  then  I 
had  found  something  stronger  than  the  cansair,  and 
that  I  had  beaten  it.  I  made  an  ointment  and  a  lini- 
ment out  of  it,  and  I  cured  that  man,  aye,  and  I  have 
cured  many  since.  Now,  what  do  you  say  to  that, 
Dr.  Lloyd?  It  is  I  who  am  responsible,  and  not  you, 
and  I  am  responsible  not  to  man,  but  to  God,"  and 
the  old  man  smiled  triumphantly. 

"  Listen  to  me,  Rhysin,"  said  Michael,  very  gravely. 
"I  have  not  got  time  to  talk  to  you  much  to-night, 
but  I  want  you  to  take  to  heart  all  my  words,  and  to 
think  over  them  seriously.  That  poor  woman  in  the 
cottage  is  very,  very  near  her  end.  Whether  you  have, 
unconsciously,  perhaps,  been  the  means  of  aggravat- 
ing and  hastening  that  end,  I  know  not,  but  as  a  medi- 
cal man  I  don't  think  she  has  long  to  live.  Do  you 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          357 

hear  that,  man?  "  he  ejaculated  fiercely,  and  pointing 
to  the  cottage  whence  came  a  low  cry  as  of  a  poor 
animal  in  pain.  "I  am  not  one  to  judge  my  fellow- 
creature's  motives.  Your  motives  may  be  good,  and 
your  so-called  cure  may  be  effective  in  your  own  opin- 
ion; but  as  a  man  I  cannot  allow  the  last  few  hours 
that  remain  to  a  poor  soul  on  this  earth  to  be  hours 
of  torture  inexpressible,  without  protesting  in  some 
form  or  another.  Now,  Rhysin  Thomas,  the  way  is 
open  to  you,  if  you  believe  that  you  can  still  cure 
Betty  Powell,  to  go  in  there,"  and  he  pointed  to  the 
cottage  door,  "  and  I  will  not  try  to  prevent  you,  nor 
follow  you  in;  but  if  you  do  go  in  {and  Betty  will  die 
to-night  if  you  apply  any  more  of  your  stuff  to  her 
breast),  I  shall  hold  you  responsible,  indeed,  and  shall 
know  what  to  do  afterwards.  Don't  misunderstand  me, 
and  don't  think  I  am  speaking  out  of  jealousy  and 
from  ignorance  of  your  methods  of  '  cure ' ;  but  I  am 
talking  simply  as  man  to  man,  and  not  as  doctor  to 
quack.  Choose." 

Michael  spoke  with  intense  emotion,  and  turning  to 
Barbara,  said,  "  Come,  Miss  Owen,  I  fear  I  have  kept 
you  here  a  long  time  after  all,  and  poor  Tom  will  be 
wondering  what  has  become  of  us,  and  will  say  that 
his  supper  has  become  cold  after  all  our  assurance  and 
promises." 

They  left  old  Rhysin  without  vouchsafing  him  an- 
other word,  and  proceeded  some  little  distance  in  si- 
lence. When  they  had  gone  twenty  or  thirty  yards, 
Michael  turned  to  look  back.  "  Ah !  I  thought  so,"  he 
said,  indicating  a  figure  walking  along  the  sand  al- 
most parallel  with,  but  a  little  behind  them,  which 
Barbara  recognised  as  that  of  the  herbalist.  "  That, 
Miss  Owen,  is  proof  positive  to  my  mind  as  to  how 


358          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

much  honesty  there  is  in  that  gentleman's  convic- 
tions." 

Barbara  made  no  reply.  She  was  thinking  deeply, 
thinking  how  greatly  she  had  wronged  this  man  who 
was  now  walking  by  her  side  in  apparent  unconcern, 
thinking  how  she  had  attributed  his  apparent  want  of 
faith  in  her  when  she  had  made  that  awful  disclosure 
to  him  relative  to  Mrs.  Owen,  to  the  fact  that  his  pro- 
fession was  first — his  humanity  second.  His  interview 
with  Rhysin,  on  what  was  almost  the  threshold  of 
Betty's  death,  had  shown  her  how  full  to  lovingkind- 
ness  and  truth  he  reoMy  was,  and  how  it  was  only  the 
conviction  of  the  herbalist's  insincerity  of  action  that 
had  made  Michael  speak  to  him  as  he  did,  and  she  felt 
an  inward  conviction,  why  she  knew  not,  unless  it  was 
his  innate  honesty  that  forced  itself  upon  her,  that 
had  poor  suffering  Betty  shown  any  signs,  however 
small,  of  getting  better,  that  Michael  Lloyd  would 
have  rejoiced,  for  the  sake  of  humanity,  apart  from 
any  possible  benefit  to  himself,  that  there  was  hope, 
however  small,  for  cancer  patients. 

"  What  a  dreadful  old  man ! "  she  said  at  last. 
"Did  you  see  his  last  malevolent  glance  at  you,  Dr. 
Lloyd,  as  you  turned  away?  I  really  thought  he  would 
have  struck  you,  if  he  dared." 

"  No,  I  did  not  notice ;  but,  poor  old  fellow,  I  don't 
think  he  is  quite  '  all  there,'  and  I  dare  say  he  was  in 
hopes  of  getting  something  out  of  Betty  before  she 
died,  for  I  have  heard  it  said  that  the  majority  of  his 
patients  make  him  a  present  of  money.  He  is  cute 
enough  not  to  bring  himself  within  the  meshes  of  the 
law  by  making  any  fixed  charges,  but  I  dare  say  he 
conveys  to  them  in  some  way  or  other  that  he  expects 
to  be  remunerated  for  his  trouble.  But  I  must  not  be 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          359 

too  harsh  on  him.  I  may  be  wrong  altogether  in  my 
estimate  of  him  and  his  works ;  but  of  this  I  am  glad, 
that  poor  old  Betty's  last  moments  can  be  made  easier 
by  morphia,  at  all  events ;  for  I  fear  it  will  have  to 
come  to  that  in  a  day  or  two's  time,  if  not  sooner." 

"  People  may  say,  for  Rhysin  has  the  reputation 
of  being  a  vindictive  story  teller,  that  your  motives 
were  different,  Dr.  Lloyd." 

"  Ah,  yes ;  *  professional  jealousy '  is  what  I  may  be 
blamed  for,  I  suppose.  Well,  local  opinion  upon  that 
point  will  not  have  such  unhappy  results  for  me  as 
on  a  former  occasion,  Miss  Barbara,  or,  if  it  had,  I 
should  not  care  much,  for  I  should  have  done  my  duty." 

Here  was  Barbara's  opportunity  to  make  amends, 
and  she  was  not  short  to  take  advantage  of  it.  They 
had  now  penetrated  into  the  Cwm  Meivon  woods,  and 
Llyn  Dystaw  could  be  seen  shimmering  under  the  light 
of  the  moon  through  the  trees  some  little  distance 
ahead  of  them. 

"Dr.  Lloyd,  I  want  to  retract  what  I  said  to  you 
yesterday.  I  made  a  great  mistake  in  accusing  you 
of  want  of  sympathy,  and  of  subordinating  every  other 
human  feeling  to  your  professional  instinct.  I — I 
hope  I  am  making  myself  intelligible,"  she  added  hur- 
riedly, and  Michael  replied  in  a  low  voice :  "  Perfectly, 
Miss  Owen." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  edge  of  the  little 
pool.  Its  surface  was  smooth  as  it  had  ever  been ; 
there  was  no  sound  around  them  save  when  an  oc- 
casional leaf  fluttered  down  to  their  feet,  or  sometimes 
fell  into  the  water,  where  it  twisted  and  twirled  about 
for  no  apparent  reason,  till  it  drifted  across  to  the 
other  side  and  lodged  amongst  many  of  its  fellows  near 
the  sedgy  bank;  around  them  at  intervals  the  owls 


360 

hooted  weirdly,  otherwise  the  great  woods  were  plunged 
in  a  silence  profound.  Barbara  thought  she  could 
hear  her  own  heart-beats,  and  wondered  if  her  com- 
panion could  not  hear  them  too.  Michael  sighed  heav- 
ily, and  she  thought  in  the  dim  light  that  she  could 
see  him  set  his  jaw  more  determinedly  than  ever. 

"Well,  I  am  glad  you  understand  my  motives  now, 
at  all  events,"  was  all  he  said.  "  I  should  have  hated 
to  have  been  obliged  to  go  back  to  London,  knowing 
that  I  had  left  behind  in  your  heart  unkind  thoughts 
for  me." 

"  You  need  never  have  feared  that,"  she  replied 
softly ;  "  and  I  want — I  want  to  ask  if  you  will  for- 
give me." 

"  Forgive  you  ?  I  have  nothing  to  forgive,  Miss 
Barbara.  Why  are  you  crying!  What  makes  you 
cry,  Barbara,  dear?"  using  her  Christian  name  un- 
consciously as  he  took  her  hand. 

"  Is  it  my  fault?  Have  I  hurt  you?  "  as  she  winced 
a  little  under  the  strong  pressure  of  his  fingers. 

"  No,  that  was  nothing,"  and  she  smiled  through 
her  tears.  "  I  was  thinking  what  a  pity  it  is  that  you 
have  to  go  back  to  London  now,  as  your  dear  old 
father  will  miss  you  so  surely;  and  he  is  getting  old, 
you  know,"  she  added  lamely. 

"Yes,  he  is  getting  old,  it  is  true;  but  what  can 
I  do?  Rees  wants  me  to  buy  his  practice — but  I  could 
not,  I  could  not." 

"Why  could  you  not,  Dr.  Lloyd?" 

"  Because,  because Oh !  hang  it  all !     I  suppose 

I  must  tell  you  again,  although  I  had  not  meant  to 
have  done  so ;  because  I  could  not  bear  to  be  near  you, 
and  seeing  you  continually,  and  loving  you  as  I  do, 
and  knowing  all  the  time  that  you  did  not  care  for  me. 


UNDER    THE    THATCH         361 

It  may  sound  weak,  it  may  sound  foolish,  but  that's 
the  true  reason  I  cannot  stay  at  Maentrevor." 

A  flood  of  emotion  swept  over  Barbara,  recognising 
as  she  did  that  this  man  at  her  side,  with  his  strong 
individuality,  was  incapable  of  attributing  her  con- 
fession of  mistaken  judgment  in  him  to  any  other  rea- 
son than  that  of  a  desire  not  to  appear  unjust  in  his 
eyes.  Whether  it  was  the  eerie  beauty  of  the  woods, 
or  whether  it  was  because  some  hidden  call  of  nature 
in  her  that  bade  her  enlighten  him  the  more,  Barbara 
never  knew,  but  she  said  softly: 

"  Dr.  Lloyd,  if  I  made  a  mistake  in  judging  your 
character,  may  I  not  also  have  misjudged  my  own?" 

Michael  turned  swiftly  towards  her:  "  Barbara, 
what  do  you  mean?  "  Then,  seeing  her  turn  her  head 
away,  continued,  "  Is  it  possible  that  you  mean  that 
you  love  me  after  all  ?  " 

Barbara  did  not  answer,  and  something  in  her  si- 
lence compelled  Michael  to  say,  "  Ah !  no !  that  would 
alter  every  aspect  of  life,  and  such  happiness  is  not 
for  me." 

Still  Barbara  did  not  speak,  and  Michael  continued: 

"This  only  hurts  us  both,  Miss  Barbara.  Shall  we 
go  on?  It  is  getting  quite  late." 

They  walked  slowly  on,  and  soon  emerged  from  the 
wood,  and  there  in  front  of  them  was  the  old  mill- 
house  with  the  moon  shedding  silver  light  on  its  pointed 
gables.  Michael  turned  towards  his  companion  and 
saw  that  she  was  still  crying  softly.  In  a  moment  the 
floodtide  of  knowledge  flowed  over  him,  and  stepping 
quickly  to  her  side  he  put  his  two  arms  around  her. 

"Barbara,  darling!  Tell  me  for  pity's  sake,  if 
what  my  heart-beats  tell  me  is  true,  that  my  dear  old 
father  is  not  the  only  one!  that  you,  too,  are  grieving 


362          UNDER     THE     THATCH 

at  my  coming  departure,  and — and  that  you  love  me, 
or  am  I  thinking  another  mistake?  " 

"  No,  you  are  making  no  mistake  this  time.  Must 
you  go  away,  Michael,  or  will  you  stay  and  accept 
Dr.  Rees's  offer  to  sell  you  his  practice  for  your 
father's  sake  and  for  mine?"  whispered  the  girl,  in 
so  low  a  tone  that  Michael  had  to  bend  his  head  down 
till  his  cheek  lay  on  her  hair. 

"My  Barbara!"  was  all  he  could  say  in  reply,  and 
for  a  few  moments  no  further  word  was  spoken,  till 
Barbara,  gently  disengaging  herself  from  her  lover's 
arms,  pointed  to  the  mill.  Michael  perceived  that  the 
door  was  open,  and  that  a  figure,  which  he  recognised 
as  that  of  Tom,  was  standing  looking  towards  the 
wood.  He  was  evidently  on  the  lookout  for  them,  and 
they  emerged  hand-in-hand  from  the  shadows  of  the 
trees  into  the  full  light  of  the  moon.  Barbara  tried  to 
disengage  her  hand  from  Michael's,  but  he  merely 
placed  it  within  his  arm,  and  they  soon  crossed  the 
grassy  sward  and  came  to  the  house,  Tom  greeting 
them  with,  "  What  in  the  world  have  you  two  been  do- 
ing? Really,  Barbara,  I  shall  have  to  send  Peggy 
with  you  as  chaperon.  Dr.  Rees  has  come  over  to 
supper,  and  I  have  asked  Phil  to  join  us  too." 

He  looked  quizzically  at  them,  and  Michael  said, 
"  Tom,  old  fellow,  it  is  entirely  my  fault.  I  was  kept 
in  old  Betty  Powell's  cottage  longer  than  I  had  in- 
tended  Oh,  hang  it!  let's  go  in,"  and  he  laughed 

happily,  and  whilst  the  two  young  men  went  into  the 
cosy  parlour-kitchen,  Barbara  ran  upstairs  to  her  own 
room. 

"Ah,  here  you  are,  Lloyd!  I  came  home  with  this 
rascal  Tom,  in  hopes  that  I  might  persuade  you  to 
reconsider  your  decision  of  yesterday  evening,"  said 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          363 

Dr.  Rees  from  his  seat  on  the  settle  next  to  Phil-y- 
Velin. 

"  Well,  sir,  I  have  been  thinking  over  the  matter 
since  I  last  saw  you,  and  I  am  quite  prepared  to  make 
you  an  offer,  if  you  really  wish  it." 

Phil  and  Dr.  Rees  jumped  up  from  their  seats,  and 
looked  eagerly  at  him. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  I  mean  what  I  say ;  the  circumstances 
of  the  past  hour  or  two  have  made  a  great  difference 
in  my  intentions.  Miss  Owen — Barbara  has  prom- 
ised to  marry  me,  that  is  if  Tom  will  give  her  to 
me." 

It  was  now  Phil's  turn  to  become  excited. 

"Wh — a — a — t!  Miss  vdch  going  to  marry  my 
Maychael!  Oh!  then  my  dream  has  come  true  after 

all.  Oh!  it  is  too  good,  and — and "  and  the  old 

man  rushed  forward  and  grasped  Michael's  two  hands 
in  his  own,  and  wrung  them  violently,  while  the  tears 
ran  down  his  old  cheeks  unchecked. 

"  It  is  true,  father,  thank  God ! " 

"  Well,  I'll  be  -  — "  was  all  Tom  could  say  for  the 
moment,  whilst  a  broad  smile  of  delight  crossed  his 
face.  "That's  what  made  you  so  late,  was  it?  Mi- 
chael, old  fellow,  I  am  glad.  Well,  I'll  be " 

The  doctor  could  only  rub  his  hands  together  de- 
lightedly. 

"  Hsht',  Master  Tom,"  said  Peggy,  entering  the 
room ;  "  the  Bible  says,  *  swear  not  at  all,'  and  I  know 
you  were  going  to." 

"  Here,  Peggy,  let's  have  a  jig,"  and  the  astonished 
and  indignant  old  woman  found  herself  caught  up  by 
Tom's  strong  young  arm  and  swung  round  and  round 
the  room  several  times,  till  at  length  he  deposited  her, 
blowing  and  wheezing,  on  the  settle.  "  Our  Barbara 


UNDER     THE     THATCH 

is  going  to  marry  Michael  Lloyd,  so  there ! "  he  con- 
tinued. 

"  Oh,  dlwss  anwl,  there's  glad  I  am ! "  and  Peggy's 
watertap  was  turned  on  again,  and  she  cried  bitterly. 

"  You  old  fool ! "  said  Phil ;  "  what  iss  you  cryin' 
for?  " 

"  I  am  not  cryin*,  Phil  Lloyd,  that's  the  way  I  laff," 
was  Peggy's  rejoinder,  wiping  her  eyes  with  her  apron, 
and  by  the  time  Barbara  came  downstairs  her  wrinkled 
old  face  was  wreathed  in  smiles  to  such  an  extent  that 
Tom  whispered  to  her,  "  I  believe  you'll  be  trying  for 
Phil  soon,  or  is  it  Dr.  Rees,  Peggy  ?  " 

"  Phwt!  "  was  Peggy's  amiable  rejoinder  to  her  tor- 
mentor, shaking  her  fist  at  him. 

It  was  a  happy  party  that  gathered  round  the  old 
oak  board  in  the  mill  that  evening,  and  when  the  meal 
was  finished  and  the  jug  was  replenished  with  the  foam- 
ing ale,  Tom,  the  doctor,  and  Phil  drew  near  the  fire 
with  their  pipes  and  looked  round  for  Michael  to  join 
them,  but  he  and  Barbara  had  slipped  out  into  the 
bright  moonlight  again. 

"  F'anwylyd?  "  he  said,  as  his  arm  stole  around  her. 
"  You  have  long  known  what  suffering  was,  and  I  too 
have  known  it,  although  perhaps  not  in  the  same  way 
as  you  have;  but  it  is  all  over  now,  thank  God!  Art 
happy,  my  Barbara?  " 

"Happy,  Michael?"  she  whispered.  "Yes,  I  am 
indeed  happy." 

"  And,  oh,  Barbara,  I  have  heard  of  isuch  a  dear  old 
house,  all  ivy-grown  and  creeper-clad,  where  two  peo- 
ple I  know  can  live  so  happily  together.  Not  very  far 
from  Maentrevor,  either.  Its  roof  is  not  tiled,  Bar- 
bara, its  rooms  are  not  new,  and  perhaps  one  of  these 


UNDER     THE     THATCH          365 

two  people  I  speak  of  would  prefer  something  newer 
and  grander." 

"Where  is  it,  Michael?" 

He  turned  her  round  and  pointed  to  the  mill. 
"  There,  fanwylyd.  Does  it  suit  thee?  Here,  where  we 
have  known  sorrow  and  joy.  What  dost  thou  say?" 

"I  say  as  you  say,  Michael.  Here  let  us  live,  if 
your  father  is  willing ;  but  what  about  Tom  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Tom  is  like  Peggy,  only  moves  with  the  furni- 
ture!" and  smiling  happily,  he  led  her  indoors,  whilst 
the  pale  moon  beamed  placidly  down;  the  night  wind 
sighed  softly  in  the  pine  trees,  and  a  pair  of  owls 
flitted  silently  back  to  their  nest  "  Under  the  Thatch." 


THE  END 


—  "Ill/Id  1(111  ill  Jill j  II  III 


